
























SAINTS’ REST 





In Gay Attire We Assembled For Our Indian Picnic 





SAINTS’ REST 


BY 


SADIE FULLER SEAGRAVE 
h 


ST. LOUIS 

C. V. MOSBY COMPANY 

1918 



Copyright, 1918, by C. V. Mosby Company 




MAR 20 1918 


Press of 

C. V. Mosby Company 
St. Louis 


©CI,A49‘]86 5 

I 


TO 

MY MOTHER 


Mrs. Ida Fuller West 


I 




These are the things I prize 
And hold of deepest worth: 

Light of the sapphire skies, 

Peace of the silent hills, 

Shelter of forest, comfort of the grass. 
Shadow of clouds that swiftly pass. 

And after showers 
The smell of flowers. 

And of the good brown earth, — 

And best of all, along the way. 
Friendship and mirth. 


— Henry Van Dyke. 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I 

The Big Chance 15 

CHAPTER II 

When Doctors Disagree 26 

CHAPTER III 

Worry and Pink Roses 38 

CHAPTER IV 

Exile 47 

CHAPTER V 

The New Regime 48 

CHAPTER VI 

The Lay of the Land 54 

CHAPTER VII 

His Royal Highness 61 

CHAPTER VIII 

Mr. and Mrs. T. B. Bacilli 71 

CHAPTER IX 

Who^s Who 87 


9 


Contents 


CHAPTER X 

Michael Angelo Proves a Poor Messenger ... 99 

CHAPTER XI 

Thanksgiving Fun 105 

CHAPTER XII 

A Discovery 113 

CHAPTER XIII 

Christmas in a Sanatorium 118 

CHAPTER XIV 

Trouble 127 

CHAPTER XV 

Sleeping Beauties 135 

CHAPTER XVI 

Just Fun 142 

CHAPTER XVII 

A Visit to the City 148 

CHAPTER XVIII 

The Big Chief 155 

CHAPTER XIX 

Little Comrade Takes the Long Journey . . . 161 

CHAPTER XX 

The Year's Reward 171 


10 


PEEFACE 


The tale, Saints’ Eest, is neither biography nor 
autobiography, bnt rather a mixture — the assem- 
bling of incidents and impressions garnered from a 
four years’ experience in institutions for the treat- 
ment of pulmonary tuberculosis. While the story 
is written mainly from the viewpoint of the patient, 
it is tempered a little by the fuller understanding 
of those who for years have grappled with the 
problem of successful treatment for tuberculosis. 

Six months, one year, two years, ‘‘chasing the 
cure!” How appalling it sounds, to the uniniti- 
ated, and if a perusal of this somewhat intimate 
sketch of sanatorium life lends even a modicum 
of encouragement to any who must spend days, 
weeks, months or years, in a fight for health, its 
mission is fulfilled. 

The old idea that tuberculosis was incurable was 
bad. The new idea, that it is curable, must, if it 
is not to be a pitfall to the unwary, be accom- 
panied by the proviso, if taken in time, and eternal 
vigilance practiced thereafter. 

The personal quality which helps most to win the 
fight is patience — patience with the length of time 
necessary to heal diseased lung tissue, and to build 


11 


Preface 


up a resistance, patience with the rigid discipline 
necessary where many are congregated, patience 
with the foibles and uncongenial traits of some as- 
sociates. Next should come cheerfulness. Indeed, 
the two go hand in hand. Patience and cheerful- 
ness, under the supervision of those alive to the 
waywardness of this treacherous disease will do all 
that can be done. Cheerfulness when good results 
come easily is commendable, and cheerfulness in 
the face of apparent defeat is doubly so, and its 
influence far reaching, so — ^here’s a glad hand to 
the cheerful winner, and a gladder hand to the 
cheerful loser. 

The Authok. 

Oakdale, Iowa, Jan. 1 , 1918 . 


12 



SAINTS’ REST 


CHAPTER I 
THE BIG CHANCE 

Rose Marohn listened to the clock striking five 
with her usual disturbed realization that there was 
only one hour left before time to get up. So tired 
had she been for the past six months or more that 
she had fallen into the habit of waking an hour 
earlier than usual, since she no longer found it pos- 
sible to spring out of bed with the old alacrity and 
needed time to convince herself that she was ready 
to begin another day’s work. The cold plunge, 
once so inviting, no longer tempted her. Indeed, 
for several weeks she had listlessly and wearily 
made her toilet merely as a matter of necessity. 

She lay wide awake, with lids too weary to open 
until absolute necessity demanded. She wondered 
idly if she would ever again feel the ‘‘pep” that 
had added zest to her long struggle for a position 
that would mean surcease from petty worries and 
economies and enable her to have a bank account 
as a safeguard against dependence in her old age, 
dependence that had embittered her younger days. 


15 


Saints’ Rest 


and made her feel that financial independence was 
the goal toward which she must set her eyes if she 
were ever to be at ease. True, this resolve had 
been furthered, had in fact, become almost an ob- 
session, since there had entered into her life twelve 
months before, one Darwin Burney. He had 
finished his theological course, had secured a 
charge in a western state, but since his duties there 
did not begin until fall, he had spent the three sum- 
mer months substituting for an overworked pas- 
tor in the crowded, hurrying city. 

Some throw of fate had landed him in Mrs. Sul- 
livan ^s boarding house. Another throw had in- 
fused in him an earnest love for the quiet, white- 
faced girl he met there. She seemed to have few 
intimates and few interests. She talked with him 
sociably enough about his work, but the gay and 
joyous comradeship he offered seemed at first to 
puzzle her. The limited social life she had allowed 
herself had not overcome the imprint of her early 
life, with its repressions, its discouragements of 
what attraction she had, and its fostering of a 
natural timidity and lack of self-confidence. 

Well for her that Darwin Burney, filled with the 
love of life, acutely able to snatch some measure of 
reward from any struggle that enclosed him, sensed 
in her dormant nature the qualities that would re- 
spond and be correlative to the curious blending 


16 


The Big Chance 

of earnestness and joyonsness which made up his 
existence. 

Wonderful as the future seemed to Eose when 
she had grasped the fact that she was loved by this 
man, with the tenderness of a woman in his heart, 
and the joyousness of a child in his eyes, she could 
not throw otf entirely the only fear that intruded. 
Not once, but often, had she and her Aunt Susan 
winced when doled out begrudingly a meager sup- 
ply of money for the barest necessities, when both 
knew that this attitude was prompted only by the 
miserliness of the one who held the purse strings. 

‘‘Eose,’’ her aunt once had said, “if you ever 
marry, be sure you have a few hundred dollars of 
your own. It will be a wonderful saving to your 
pride.” 

Eose, sensitive to a fault, had not needed this 
admonition. Once able to earn a living, she would 
be beholden to no one, so when Darwin Burney 
pleaded with her to go with him to his western field 
that fall, she had steadily refused, saying that she 
must wait until she should accumulate a few more 
hundred dollars. To this end she had applied her- 
self more diligently than ever, until now her weary 
body almost refused the dictates of her mind. 

Finally she rose and garbed herself with her 
usual neat precision, just now more a habit of years 
than conscious effort. She was of average height. 


17 


Saints^ Rest 


but thin with the thinness that excites commisera- 
tion. Slightly irregular though her features were, 
a little study convinced one that there were pos- 
sibilities if only the thinness, the tiredness, and the 
pallor could be eliminated. Her would-be wavy 
hair was combed straight back and twisted into the 
hard knot sanctioned at that time by some per- 
versity of fashion. It was not especially becoming, 
her thin, tired face needed the softening influence 
of escaping curls and gentle lines, but it was a 
quick do-up and neat, and she didn^t care about 
anything else. 

‘‘0 goodness,’’ she thought, as the bell rang, ‘‘I 
wonder if I’ll ever want to eat again.” 

She went slowly downstairs and stopped mechan- 
ically at the breakfast table. 

‘‘Don’t bring me anything but a cup of coffee, 
Katie.” 

Katie departed to the kitchen, and in a moment 
or so the good-natured landlady appeared with a 
look of concern on her kind face. 

“Kosie, my dear, Katie is after bringin’ ye the 
cup of coffee, but surely it’s jokin’ ye are. A cup 
of coffee is naught to do a mornin’s work on. 
Ye’re that thin already I’m thinkin ye should be 
takin’ a tonic. Now Dr. McCarthey,” she paused 
in dismay, for Rose, the calm, the self-contained, 
the least emotional of any boarder Mrs. Sullivan 


18 


The Big Chance 


had ever had, leaned against the chair and sobbed. 
In a moment she straightened herself and spoke 
vehemently. 

‘ ‘ Don ^t say tonic to me. I Ve spent all the money 
I’m going to on tonics. I don’t want anything 
except a chance to rest until I feel like living again. 
Tonics! I loath the sight of a bottle, and my 
pocketbook shrinks at the thought of one. Oh, I 
know I ’m horrid to snap at you so. I should think 
you would hate me. I hate myself. ’ ’ 

She dashed the mortified tears from her eyes and 
left the house. 

Mrs. Sullivan looked worried. She had found 
very endearing the girl’s former appreciation of 
her motherly efforts to make a boarding house 
seem a home, and longed earnestly to see her back 
in the freshness of her first days. 

‘‘I’ll be slipping around to Dr. McCarthey by 
the by and see what he says. Maybe we can help 
her in some ways. She did take a powerful lot of 
tonic but ’twas not of McCarthey ’s prescribing.” 

Eose boarded a car at the corner of Dustin and 
St. Francis Streets and started on her long trip 
to the office of Barr Publishing Company. After 
a long, hard forenoon the junior partner looked up 
at the close of his dictation. 

“Mr. Barr would like to speak to you a moment 
before you go out for lunch.” 


19 


Saints’ Rest 


Rose looked up in surprise. Most of her direc- 
tions were given by the junior partner and a sum- 
mons to the office of the senior partner was some- 
what unusual. A tinge of curiosity pervaded her 
as she entered the office. Mr. Barr, small, wiry, 
and calmly abrupt, scrutinized her closely a mo- 
ment or so. 

‘‘Possibly you are not aware that Miss Ray ex- 
pects to leave for an indefinite time. In fact, she 
may not return at all. I am sorry to lose her. We 
have talked over the matter of her successor and 
she agrees with me that you have earned the right 
to a trial. There are, however, some things which 
must be considered first, and I believe she will talk 
to you about them soon. Later you and she can let 
me know what you consider best. ^ ’ 

He dismissed her with a courteous if somewhat 
abrupt gesture, and Rose, with a barely murmured 
“Thank you’^ left the office. The surprise was 
complete, for there had been no rumor of a change 
in the office force. In fact. Miss Ray seemed as 
much a part of the office as Mr. Barr himself. She 
had been there a good many years and was re- 
garded by all as the most competent person in the 
whole establishment, with the exception of the 
members of the firm. 

To be sure Rose had had the goal of private 
secretary in mind ever since she entered the office. 


20 


The Big Chance 


but she had felt that it would not be a realized 
dream for a long, long time. She hastened to the 
elevator and once down on the street hurried to 
the resting room of the Ladies’ Auxiliary, where 
she sank into an easy chair. Closing her eyes she 
saw again the calm face of the senior partner and 
heard again the words for which she had worked 
so hard and patiently, albeit with no thought of an 
early reward. 

Private secretary to the senior member of the 
Barr Publishing Company ! This meant far better 
pay and more congenial work. It was a position 
much sought for, the attainment of which she would 
rejoice to flaunt in the face of her niggardly Uncle 
John. He it was who, though well able to furnish 
a comfortable home, and a good education to his 
orphan niece, had made her education largely a 
matter of her own initiative and effort. She had 
been obliged to work unduly hard, had been skimped 
on her clothes, and above all had had only con- 
temptuous words when she had longed for encour- 
agement and praise. 

She had been independent now for some years, 
but it was hard to save much from her salary, and 
what little she had saved, less then $400, had been 
possible only by extreme thrift and much curbing 
of natural desires. With a better salary she could 
afford to relax a little the effort which extreme 


21 


Saints^ Rest 


thrift entails and still see her bank account ap- 
proach the mark she had firmly decided upon as 
necessary. When this was done, the prospect of 
becoming Mrs. Darwin Burney would not have a 
single flaw. 

In such wise her thoughts rambled on until she 
suddenly became aware of slow steady steps across 
the room. Someone slipped into the chair beside 
her, and gently smoothed the hand which lay re- 
laxed upon the arm of her chair. She opened her 
eyes and looked into the gray-blue eyes of the 
private secretary. Miss Bay. The gray-blue eyes 
smiled steadily into the surprised dark-blue ones, 
and a warm friendly voice spoke. 

know, my dear, that Mr. Barr spoke to you 
about taking my position when I leave. Be has 
talked the matter over with me in considerable 
detail. We both have noted your capability since 
you entered our firm, and the evidence of fitness 
which you have shown for such a position. I am 
glad for you. I know you can make good, if — she 
hesitated, ‘‘you can keep your enthusiasm, and my 
dear, it takes health and vitality to keep that in 
most instances. In this position it is not so much 
mechanical skill that is needed, though that is 
necessary too, as it is enthusiasm, alertness, and 
the ability to think quickly and clearly. Ever since 
I began to think of leaving I have had you in mind. 


22 


The Big Chance 


and I have watched yon closely. The only thing 
that makes me doubt the wisdom of your taking the 
position is your health. If you looked as you did 
the day you entered our office, I would not be say- 
ing this. Your alertness and freshness is gone.’’ 

‘‘Oh, my dear,” she said hastily, as a hurt look 
crossed the face of the intently listening girl, “I do 
not mean that you have failed in any way because 
of this, but I know from my own experience how 
much of a strain this position of mine is. I have 
held it a number of years. I was not much older 
than you when I began the work. I love it, and 
want it to be a great joy to you as it has been to 
me. It is work that asks much but also gives much. 
Tell me frankly, do you feel strong enough in every 
way?” 

As if afraid to delay, Eose sat upright, and an- 
swered hurriedly and chokingly, “No, I’m afraid 
I’m not ready as far as health is concerned. I’m 
not lazy, but I have felt tired and unambitious for 
a long time, and down in my heart I am dreading 
getting used to the new work, but I have wanted to 
step in if ever there was a vacancy, and I can’t 
bear to let it go by me.” 

“Have you seen a doctor?” questioned the pri- 
vate secretary. 

“Dozens. 0, not that exactly, but I went to two 


23 


Saints^ Rest 


very good doctors, and both told me I was simply 
run-down. They prescribed expensive tonics, and 
a change of scene. I took the former until the 
sight of a bottle made me sick, but since the most 
I could do for change of scene was to change my 
boarding place, I didn’t. I haven’t seen either one 
of those doctors for some time now, though I’d not 
mind doing my share to help support some doctor 
if I felt I was getting any benefit from his advice. 
As it is, I have been putting my money in the bank. 
But how I wish I could feel like myself again. ’ ’ 

She leaned her head back against the chair and 
tears rolled down her now flushed cheeks. 

The gray-blue eyes of the private secretary were 
very kind as they rested on the tired face and 
despondent body, and she said thoughtfully, 
‘‘Would you mind my taking things into my own 
hands? Maybe what I have in mind is a wild 
guess, but perhaps not. Suppose we let matters 
rest for a day or so. This is Thursday. Possibly 
by the end of the week I can help figure out some- 
thing.” 

“I can’t seem to figure out anything myself,” 
said Pose, “but even then, why should you be so 
kind to me?” 

After an instant the answer came. 

“Because I have needed kindness many times 
myself, and found it lacking.” 


24 


The Chance 

“Yoii,^’ exclaimed Eose, ‘‘I thought everybody 
loved you. ’ ’ 

People admire me; I am successful; I make 
good money; I dress well, and I am not unattrac- 
tive, but when I first began this work I was not as 
well fitted for it as you, so far as technical train- 
ing was concerned, and it was necessary to apply 
myself without reserve, so I passed by the time 
when friendships come easily, and now everybody 
thinks as you do, that I have everything I want.’’ 
The speaker shook a suspicion of mist from her 
blue-gray eyes and laughed unsteadily. ^‘Besides, 
I want to turn my position over to some one who 
is not handicapped in any way.” 


25 


CHAPTER II 


WHEN DOCTORS DISAGREE 

Miss Ray was a woman of action, and late that 
afternoon she held a consultation with Dr. Rut- 
ledge, the most eminent specialist in the state. At 
the close of the interview she said, ‘H’m sorry, 
of course, that your suspicions coincide with mine. 
It seems so dreadful!^’ 

The doctor smiled his friendly quizzical smile. 

‘‘Maybe it won’t be so dreadful as you think. 
That remains to be seen. However, even at the 
worst, you must not forget that the sooner we get 
at the root of the trouble, the sooner we can help 
her.” 

“Then I’ll have her come to see you Saturday 
afternoon at three, as you suggest. She will have 
the whole afternoon. I’ll meet her here if I can, 
but if not, you will find her a plucky girl, and I 
suggest that you be perfectly frank with her. Of 
course, if I have made a far-fetched guess, and you 
find some very minor ailment, please remember 
that it was your article in this month’s Survey 
that made me think of this possibility.” 

“I hope your suspicions are unfounded for the 
sake of the young lady, but let me assure you that 


26 


When Doctors Disagree 


my experience has proved that ‘far-fetched’ 
guesses are not common enough in my line. If 
there were, such articles as that you mention would 
not need parading. If I find Miss Marohn is not 
a case for my supervision, I will endeavor to find 
where her case does belong.” 

“Thank you. Dr. Rutledge, for your interest,” 
and the private secretary moved toward the door. 

Dr. Rutledge made a long stride and opened it 
for her; then closed the door and walked into his 
inner office where he glanced over the notes he 
had just taken. 

“Probably a typical case,” he murmured, and 
a hint of sadness crept into the somewhat thin 
face, softened by its well-trimmed Van Dyke, and 
into the keen gray eyes with tiny lines around 
them. The faintly quizzical smile which usually 
pervaded his features vanished. This busy man 
with his big heart and deep sympathy could not 
consider his patients as so many cases, merely, and 
the disappointment, the struggle, the reward or 
defeat of each one he made his own. 

“I’m sure it is perfect nonsense,” said Rose, 
when told of the appointment, “for me to consult 
that doctor, but if you think best, of course I’ll 
go, but I want you to be with me if you can.” 

“Well, I will be much relieved myself, if I am 
mistaken, but you know you are not well, and 


27 


Saints^ Best 


something must be the matter. I am sure Dr. Eut- 
ledge can advise you, at least, unless,’^ and Miss 
Eay laughed whimsically, ‘‘you prefer trying 
another brand of tonic.” 

Kose made a grimace but said nothing. 

Saturday afternoon at the appointed time, the 
two women arrived at Dr. Eutledge’s office. “The 
doctor is busy for a short time,” said the office 
girl, “but he can see you very soon.” 

Kose clasped and unclasped her fingers. She 
was beginning to feel nervous. Her cheeks, al- 
ready flushed, became scarlet in sharp contrast 
to the surrounding pallor. Her lips were pale, and 
her limbs trembled. 

“I wonder,” she thought, “if I am coming down 
with malaria or something like that. ’ ’ She wished 
the doctor would hurry. 

Presently the doctor emerged from his private 
office and ushered the ladies in. 

“I am sorry to have kept you waiting,” he said, 
“I tried to be through in time.” 

“A little delay did not matter,” answered the 
quiet voice, “we are glad to rest a little, though 
Miss Marohn is somewhat anxious, despite her 
assertion that whatever the matter is, she knows 
you are not the one to consult.” 

The doctor turned his eyes on Eose. “They all 
say that,” and his quizzical smile was uppermost. 


28 


When Doctors Disagree 

He ushered the two into his private office, and 
seated Miss Eay by a sunny window. 

‘‘Miss Marohn, you will please sit here,’’ said 
he, indicating a smooth, white stool near his desk. 

A summons to the outer office kept him away a 
few minutes, and the waiting women looked curi- 
ously around them. The room was long and nar- 
row, well lighted, with big sunny windows. Two 
large pictures hung on the walls, one directly over 
the doctor’s desk, a fine copy of a “landscape” 
by Corot, and one by a modern painter depicting 
Mt. Eainier in the glow of a summer sunset. In 
one corner of the room stood a cabinet filled with 
shining instruments, and close beside it weighing 
and measuring scales. A desk, revolving chair, 
an easy chair, a stool, a table laden with medical 
journals and papers, and a tall, narrow case near 
the desk filled with reprints, and a file, completed 
the furnishing of the room, with the exception of 
a row of bookcases along one side. On the center 
case stood a low glass bowl filled with glowing 
autumn roses, which added warmth to the room 
with its cool gray walls. 

The doctor entered and began the interview with 
the patient. “I understand. Miss Marohn, that 
you have been working quite hard for some time, 
and now have an opportunity for a promotion, but 
do not feel physically fit. Suppose you tell me, 
to start with, when you last felt perfectly well. ’ ’ 


29 


Saints^ Rest 


‘‘0, 1 don’t feel really sick, but I am tired all the 
time. ’ ’ 

‘‘How long have you been feeling tired?” 

‘ ‘ Quite a long time, almost a year, I guess. ’ ’ 

“Have you ever had grippe or pleurisy?” 

“Well, sometimes in the winter I have the grippe 
and colds that last a long time, and about eight 
months ago I had a dreadful spell of the grippe 
and was home almost two weeks, but after I went 
back to work I felt all right except that I didn’t 
feel strong, and I haven’t felt strong since.” 

“What did you do for yourself?” 

“I went to Dr. Popp and he thought I was com- 
ing down with typhoid or malaria, and gave me 
medicine and tonics to stave it off. I felt better 
for a while, but it didn’t last, and then I began 
having little stabs of pain in my side. This time 
I went to another doctor and he treated me for 
intercostal neuralgia, and said I was also run- 
down generally, and working too hard, and pre- 
scribed a frightfully bitter tonic. I took some of 
it, but it tasted so dreadful that it took away what 
little appetite I had, and it cost a lot, so I quit.” 

“Do you still have those pains?” 

“Not all the time, and not so bad, but I can’t 
eat, and am tired all the time.” 

After going minutely into the present state of 
her health, the doctor subjected her to a searching 

30 


When Doctors Disagree 


inquiry with respect to her past physical history. 
From this it developed that she had had spells of 
so-called malaria a number of years previously. 
Later he questioned her concerning her family his- 
tory. 

‘‘Are your parents living?’^ 

“Neither of them.’’ 

‘ ‘ What did they die from ! ’ ’ 

“Father from asthma, and mother shortly after 
childbirth.” 

“I see. Had your mother been in good health 
previously?” 

“Well, not exactly. She had some kind of heart 
trouble.” 

‘ ‘ Have you any brothers or sisters ? ’ ’ 

“No.” 

‘ ‘ Any uncles or aunts ? ’ ’ 

“One of father’s brothers is living, 'but has 
asthma, too. One was killed in an accident. I 
have two aunts who are quite well, although I 
think one of them had some bronchial trouble a 
while ago.” 

“Did you ever live with any of these uncles or 
aunts?” 

“After my parents died, I lived with the uncle 
who has asthma, for a good many years, but that 
was some time ago.” 

“What is the most you ever weighed?” 


31 


Saints^ Rest 


“I think about 115 pounds.’’ 

‘‘Suppose you step on the scales. I see, 101, 
without wraps. Now the next thing is a good chest 
examination.” 

“Well, all right, but you will find my lungs per- 
fectly sound. ’ ’ 

Dr. Eutledge left the room and sent in the office 
girl who took from a drawer a large Turkish towel, 
made on the order of a combing jacket, which she 
handed to Eose with the request to place it around 
her shoulders after preparing for the examination, 
and rap on the door when ready. 

The examination lasted some time, and Eose be- 
came very tired. At the close of the examination 
the doctor laid aside his stethoscope, handed her 
a thermometer with instructions to hold it in her 
mouth a full five minutes. He added the reading 
100.2 to his other record and sat in silence a few 
moments. 

Finally he straightened out the papers, leaned 
back in his chair, and said slowly, “When I was 
a boy I broke my leg. The doctor came to 
set it, and I asked him if it would hurt worse. 
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it will hurt badly, but if we get 
it in the right position now it will grow together, 
and you will have a leg that will give you as good 
service as if it had never been broken.’ Now, Miss 
Marohn, what I tell you may hurt a little, but please 

32 


When Doctors Disagree 


remember what that doctor told me about my leg. 
Sometimes I like to make several examinations to 
make sure of certain things. -This, however, will 
not be necessary in your case, for the data which 
I have gleaned from my questions, and the findings 
of my examination convince me that you have a 
tuberculous infection in the top of both your lungs. 
It isn’t bad, but may become so, if proper care is 
neglected. ’ ’ 

Rose stared at him, incredulity and rebellion in 
her look. 

“But I don’t want to have tuberculosis.” 

“Neither do I,” smiled the doctor, “but if I did 
have I would want to get over it as soon as pos- 
sible.” 

“But can one get over it?” 

“That depends on many things. A great many 
people who appear to be much more ill than you, 
recover sufficiently to live an ordinary life, but to 
accomplish this takes considerable time, the right 
kind of supervision, and intelligent cooperation, 
and the latter requirement is very essential. I can 
tell you what you should do, but what you really 
do will depend greatly upon yourself. ’ ’ 

“What is the very best thing for me to do?” 

“I should say that the best thing in the average 
case, and we will consider yours an average case, 
is to enter some good sanatorium where you can 


33 


Saints^ Rest 


be observed and supervised by some physician who 
understands tuberculosis; the sooner the better.’^ 

‘‘How long would I have to stayT^ 

“I tell you frankly, I don’t know. Probably not 
less than six months, and possibly twelve months 
or niore.” 

“Six months!” gasped Eose, “Wouldn’t it cost 
a fortune to stay that long?” 

“It would in some places. Suppose you tell me 
now, just how you are situated financially, and I 
will see what arrangements can be made.” 

“All I have is my savings account, less than 
$400. I can use it, of course. ’ ’ 

“Have you any one to provide for you?” 

“No one.” 

“Have you any one to consult with before mak- 
ing plans?” 

“Not exactly. I’m engaged, but I had not 
planned on getting married for a couple of years, 
anyway. ’ ’ 

“Which intention is very wise,” interrupted Dr. 
Rutledge, “since marriage in the near future 
would be very inadvisable. Now, Miss Marohn, 
since there is no use considering the impossible, 
I will not go into details concerning certain places 
and certain arrangements that might be talked 
over if money were no object. Considering cir- 
cumstances, the best thing for you to do is to make 


34 


When Doctors Disagree 


application to enter Tamarack, a sanatorium for 
tuberculosis under the Tuberculosis Commission 
of the state. There a part of the expenses are 
paid by the state, and I should think the charge of 
$40 a month would come within your means, es- 
pecially since your other needs will be small. You 
should stop work at once, or at least as soon as 
you can, and go to this place, as soon as you can 
get admission. They have a waiting list, not es- 
pecially long, but it might take three weeks to get 
you admitted. I can write the superintendent, and 
have your name put on the waiting list as soon 
as you decide to go.’’ 

‘‘But my position,” stammered Eose. “I mean 
my promotion. I can ’t have it if I quit work. ’ ’ 

Miss Eay laid a friendly hand on the girl’s 
shoulder. “My dear, if your health is not equal 
to it, you wouldn’t have it long, and even if it 
should not be open to you on your return there will 
be other places. I can help you there. I would not 
worry about a position, but if you want to think 
matters over I am sure Dr. Eutledge will under- 
stand, and let you notify him later.” 

Eose gave her a grateful look, and turned to the 
doctor. ‘ ‘ Perhaps you will think me foolish not to 
decide right away, but even though I shall make 
the decision myself I would rather think things 
over. Then if I decide to go, I will be more apt 


35 


Saints’ Rest 


to be satisfied. I will let you know Monday how 
things seem to me.’’ 

‘‘And in the meantime,” said Dr. Kutledge, 
“you will stay at home, and in bed and rest. To- 
morrow is Sunday, and I want you to make it a 
day of absolute rest. Remember too, that you are 
not to worry. It isn’t needful, and it is harmful. 
You have a good chance to recover if you take 
proper care in time, and besides the recovery of 
your health, you will find a number of things to 
compensate you for the loss of time and money. 
You may not realize this for a long time, but you 
must take my word for it.” 

“I am sure Rose will profit by your advice, and 
we thank you for your kindness this afternoon,” 
said Miss Ray. 

As the women turned to leave the office Dr. 
Rutledge swiftly despoiled the bowl of roses, and 
handed each a glowing cluster. “Worry and pink 
roses,” he said kindly, to Rose, “do not belong to- 
gether. Discard the one, and keep the other.” 

“I feel terribly upset,” said Rose to Miss Ray, 
when they came to the parting of their ways, ‘ ‘ but 
I’ll go to work as usual Monday, even if I make up 
my mind to follow the advice I’ve been given. I 
can tell Mr. Barr then, and call the doctor by 
phone. You’ve helped me a great deal, and I ap- 
preciate it, but I guess I’ll have to do the deciding 


36 


When Doctors Disagree 


myself. Believe me, I’ll do some thinking between 
now and Monday. 0, I don’t see how I can give 
up my promotion!” 

‘‘Whatever you plan, Rose, remember it is easier 
not to make a mistake than it is to undo one. Be 
wise enough not to rely too much on your own 
judgment. Good-bye. ’ ’ 

“Good-bye, Miss Ray.” 


37 


CHAPTER III 


WORRY AND PINK ROSES 

That evening good-hearted Mrs. Sullivan 
knocked at the door of Rose’s room. In her hand 
she carried a huge bottle of tonic. True to her 
word she had consulted Dr. McCarthey, and de- 
scribed the girPs failing strength and lack of ap- 
petite, and the kind old doctor, more kind than 
wise, had shaken his head sagely, and remarked, 
‘‘Needs something to build up the blood. I’ll give 
you a good tonic, make her take it, willy-nilly.” 

Rose laughed hysterically when the bottle was 
unwrapped, and between sobs and laughter told 
the astonished landlady what Dr. Rutledge had 
told her, and advised her. 

“Sure, Rosie, ye’re jokin’. Ye can’t be goin’ 
into consumption. Why, me cousin, Bessie 
O’Grady, that died of it, coughed from mornin’ 
till night and from night till mornin’, and she was 
naught but a bag o’ bones. Sure ye’re too thin for 
yer own good looks, but to be havin’ consumption! 
How long did he give ye, Rosie, my dear?” 

“Six months, perhaps a year,” answered Rose 
impishly, but at sight of the distress in the moth- 

38 


Worry and Pink Roses 

erly face, she added ‘‘to get well in. He says I 
have a good chance if I stop work.’’ 

Mrs. Sullivan rocked in silence, then wrapped 
up the rejected bottle of tonic and declared, “I’m 
not thinkin’ consumption can be cured, leastways 
not without medicine, but if this Dr. Rutledge tells 
ye ye’ve a fightin’ chance, then take it, and the 
saints be with ye.” 

She rose to go, but her eyes fell on the portrait 
of Darwin Burney. 

“Rosie, my dear, are ye forgettin’ the man 
that’d give his last breath for ye? Marry him, 
Rosie, darlin’, and let him take care of ye.” 

Rose drew a sharp breath, then answered 
steadily, “ If I wouldn ’t go to him when I was well 
and strong, do you think I’d go to him now? A 
pretty helpmeet I’d be for him!” 

Long hours that night Rose lay awake. Tired 
and nervous, her thoughts jolted around kaleido- 
scope fashion, and the word tuberculosis was most 
often uppermost. Surely that must be a mistake, 
and yet she was not well, and Dr. Rutledge had 
seemed so sure. Well, she couldn’t give up her 
good position, to say nothing of the promotion 
ahead. She could not spend all her money. If 
she did, she would be back where she had started 
from six years before. But still, maybe if she kept 
on working she would get so she couldn’t work at 


39 


Saints^ Best 


all, and she didn’t want to die. Not because she 
had been so very happy, but because she hadn’t, and 
she was young yet, and there was Darwin. What 
a puzzle things were. Her eyes wide open turned 
to the moonlight streaming in. Its silver rays 
rested on the pink roses which she had brought 
from the doctor’s office. 

‘‘Pink roses and worry won’t go together,” she 
heard the calm steady voice saying, and the roses 
were hers. With her face turned toward them she 
fell asleep. Late the next morning she awoke, 
refreshed by her sleep, faced the issue bravely, 
and made her decision. Since health was the one 
thing she must have for Darwin’s happiness as 
well as her own, she would take no half-way meas- 
ures but put up the best fight she could, and be 
guided by the advice of those who were supposed 
to know best. 

“Maybe I can’t fight gracefully,” she thought, 
“but perhaps I can learn, and no matter what hap- 
pens I want Darwin to know I did the best I could.” 

Here a sudden thought struck her. Perhaps 
Darwin would not want for a wife one who had 
been tuberculous, even if she became as well as one 
could. This thought obtruded itself persistently, 
and gave her some bad hours. Late that afternoon 
she wrote to Darwin. 

“My dear,” she wrote, “ ’tis an ill tale I must 


40 


Worry and Pink Roses 

send you in the wake of your last cheery message. 
How bad it is you can judge for yourself. IVe 
told you before that I have been feeling dreadfully 
out of tune physically, but couldn’t seem to find 
out why. Now, to make a long story short, I have 
been told that I have tuberculosis, not bad, but 
tuberculosis just the same. Last Thursday Mr. 
Barr told me that Miss Eay expected to leave soon, 
and he thought I deserved the promotion, but said 
there was something to be considered which Miss 
Eay would talk over with me. She was lovely, but 
told me frankly that she didn’t think I was fit 
physically for the work, and advised me to see 
Hr. Eutledge, the most eminent specialist on tuber- 
culosis in this state. Of course I was skeptical, but 
I went to him. ‘ Tuberculosis, ’ he said, ‘ six months 
or perhaps a year of rest in a sanatorium.’ Dar- 
win, think of it ! Even if I get well, all my money 
will be gone, and I will have to start my pride saver 
all over again, and since I won’t go to you sick, 
and I won’t go to you penniless, and it isn’t fair 
to keep you waiting so much longer for the home 
you want, you had better put me out of your life 
entirely. Don’t think I am hard and cold. It isn’t 
easy to write this. I love you, Darwin, but I want 
you to be happy, and I am tired, mentally and 
physically, and besides, I have tuberculosis.” 

Eose. 


41 


Saints^ Best 


Fearful lest her courage fail, she addressed the 
envelope hurriedly to Eeverend Darwin Burney, 
16 Dewberry Lane, Seattle, Washington, and 
mailed it. 

When Monday morning came, she lost no time 
in telling Miss Kay of her decision to enter the san- 
atorium, and in calling up Dr. Rutledge to ask him 
to send in her application as soon as possible. 

‘‘Good girl,’^ responded the doctor, “a prompt 
decision bodes well. If you will come to the of- 
fice tomorrow at three. I’ll introduce you to a 
very fine young lady who is expecting to enter the 
sanatorium soon. Possibly you can be admitted 
the same day, and if so, the trip will not seem so 
hard and long. There are a few instructions I 
wish to give you also.” 

When Rose went to Mr. Barr to tell him she 
could not take the promotion, and would be obliged 
to give up the position she already held, her heart 
felt very heavy, and the words came slowly to her 
lips. When she had finished, he answered kindly, 
“Miss Marohn, from what Miss Ray tells me, 
and from a talk I had with Dr. Rutledge after he 
saw you Saturday afternoon, I believe you are do- 
ing the best possible thing. Dr. Rutledge is a man 
of wide attainment in his profession, has made a 
special study of this disease, and above all, has 
a reputation for absolute integrity, and I would 


42 


Worry and Pink Roses 


accept his word without question, also his advice. 
He tells me you have a splendid chance to recover 
if you follow directions. His advice is so much 
better than mine that I won’t waste words, but 
perhaps it will ease your mind a little to know 
that we will have a place for you when you are 
ready to come back; possibly not the one you are 
giving up, but something good. Moreover, you 
have the best wishes and the good will of those 
among whom you have worked these last few years. 
We have appreciated your faithful services, and 
we shall keep track of you. Now for our own 
sake we would like to have you stay a few days, 
but Dr. Kutledge has advised us to let you off 
at once, and this we are willing to do.” 

‘‘Thank you, Mr. Barr, but I shall work today, 
anyway, and finish up some things that are half 
done.” 

Three o’clock next day found Eose at Dr. Rut- 
ledge’s office, where he laughingly introduced her 
to a “companion in misery,” Miss Phyllis Chan- 
ning. 

The two girls took silent stock of each other. 
Rose saw a slender, boyish-looking girl of about 
twenty, good color, golden hair with a most decided 
kink, but drawn back like her own in the prevailing 
hideous style. Her features were quite regular. 


43 


Saints’ Best 


and a bright vivacious smile and manner bespoke 
the joy of living. 

Phyllis noticed that the girl before her was 
slightly shorter than herself, decidedly thin, some- 
what irregular features, though not unpleasantly 
so, the whitest skin she had ever seen, and the 
blackest hair, slightly wavy, and dark blue eyes 
with deep shadows underneath. 

‘‘Probably twenty-six but looks about thirty,” 
thought Phyllis. 

After a few general instructions as to necessary 
clothing to take with them, and what train to take, 
the doctor spoke soberly. “I always give my pa- 
tients a little preachment before I send them away. 
You will find things very different at the sana- 
torium from home life. There will be rules and 
regulations which you may not fully understand 
and which will be irksome in many ways. Some- 
times the food will not appeal to you, sometimes 
your nearest companions will be distasteful, but 
I want you to bear in mind the fact that rest, fresh 
air, and enough to eat are the main requirements, 
augmented of course with a moderate degree of 
cheerfulness. So far as possible, pass by the an- 
noying things, take your fill of the good things. 
Freedom from work and responsibility alone will 
do you wonders. Let yourselves loose from 
thoughts of work, consider yourselves on a vaca- 
44 


Worry and PinTc Roses 


tion wisely restricted, and whatever happens make 
the best of it. Be thoronghbreds. I’ll let yon 
know when to start. Write me occasionally. I 
like to keep in touch with the patients I send up 
there. If I don’t see yon again before yon leave, 
good-bye and good luck.” 

‘‘I don’t usually take to people,” said Phyllis, 
as the girls walked down the street on their way 
home, ‘‘but if the superintendent of Tamarack is 
as wonderful a man as Dr. Kutledge he will be 
some man, believe me, but there can’t be two just 
alike. ’ ’ 

“I agree with you perfectly,” replied Rose, ‘‘he 
certainly can instill courage and hopefulness. I’m 
really looking forward to a change of scene and 
a chance to get rested. ’ ’ 

Swift as train could carry it came an answer to 
Rose’s letter to Darwin. She held it in her hand 
some time before she gathered courage to open it ; 
but when she had read it, the feelings of relief and 
happiness which it inspired were so acute that they 
were almost painful, and her hand shook that eve- 
ning when she penned a brief reply: 

My dear : 

The postman brought me two letters, one from 
Dr. Rutledge telling me to start for the sanatorium 
tomorrow, and one from you. I’ve read every 
word of your letter over and over. I wonder if 


45 


Saints’ Rest 


I deserve such a love. Darwin, I didn^t realize 
how much I wanted to live for you until your let- 
ter came, with its message of love, patience, and 
hopefulness. 

I went to see Dr. Kutledge right away, and asked 
him about change of climate as you suggested. He 
advised against it, unless one had means to enter 
a private sanatorium, since of course I would not 
be eligible to any county or state institution. Cli- 
mate alone, he said, had little to recommend it, 
and he told about many people he had known 
who had gone west and had found treatment much 
more expensive than it would have been in their 
home state, and also people who had gone west 
with the idea of doing a little light work, and try- 
ing to take treatment, too, and who found that 
there were so many health seekers in the same 
plight that there was no light work to be had, and 
that living expenses were terribly high, and they 
finally returned home, only to find that by their 
dallying they had lost not only time and money, 
but their chance of recovery, so I guess I^d better 
stick it out here. I ^11 try to be a good soldier. 

Yours always. 
Rose. 


46 


CHAPTER IV 


EXILE 

Tamarack, September 5, 1913. 

Dear Darwin: 

I^m here, and how can I ever stand this exile! 
The rain drips, drips, drips and they say little Nat 
died last night. The girls on the porch where I 
have been pnt say they are going to stay awake 
tonight to hear the wagon come to take him away. 
Somebody on the porch above is coughing and 
choking, and I want to get away from all this 
gloom. I won’t stay. I wonH. 

Rose. 


47 


CHAPTER V 


THE NEW REGIME 

Tamarack, September 6, 1913. 

Dear Darwin : 

I’m still here. I fell asleep in spite of the death 
wagon, and when I woke np the sun was streaming 
in. Almost my first thought was that I didn’t 
have a long street car ride ahead of me. That and 
the sunshine sort of heartened me. 

My next thought was about Phyllis Channing, 
the girl who came up with me. When we dropped 
asleep she was feeling as blue as I, so I poked my 
head up to see if she was awake and knew that 
Old Sol was doing his best to cheer two wretched 
beings. Her bed is quite close to mine. There are 
seven beds on this little side porch. If I had seven 
arms I could punch everyone at once. Well, I 
reached across and tweaked a curl, and when she 
opened her eyes I said, ‘‘My blue devils are gone, 
where are yours?” 

She blinked a little, but rose to the occasion with 
a gallant smile, and the remark that hers had gone 
where she hoped she never would. We both 
laughed, and really, Darwin, isn’t a laugh a glo- 
rious thing to start the day. 


48 


The New Regime 


We had to scramble to get ready in time for 
breakfast. There are not enongh washbowls or 
mirrors for so many people, and we dallied so long 
we had to wait. I didnT eat much breakfast — 
things were not very appetizing, but I drank sev- 
eral glasses of the very good milk which was on 
the table. Now I^m back on the porch, and in 
about ten minutes the bell will ring for us to get 
to bed again, so good-bye. I foresee that my let- 
ters must be written by snatches. 

Same place, same date, 11:30. 

We got up at 11 :30, and can stay up until din- 
ner time. I didnT sleep during this rest period, 
was too restless, but from my bed I watched the 
tops of the evergreens and birches, and wondered 
if anything could be lovelier than the bright blue 
sky. As soon as the bell tapped I ‘‘beat it’’ to the 
dressing room, and dressed. Now I can write until 
dinner time. Phyllis is writing, too. By the way, 
when we were waiting for the train yesterday 
morning, who should appear to bid Phyllis good- 
bye but an old schoolmate of mine. I had not seen 
him for several years. It seems he and Phyllis 
are engaged. They met at the university where 
Phyllis would have been a senior this fall if she 
could have gone back to school. There goes an- 
other bell. Dinner time, I suppose. 


49 


Saints^ Rest 


Later. 

I^m so full of things to write that I can’t con- 
tain myself. Even my pen is affected, so don’t 
be surprised at any zigzagging. Neither my pen 
nor myself is responsible. 

I wonder what you most want to hear about. 
It is all so new and interesting to me that I want 
to begin at the beginning, and write about every- 
thing. The train pulled in at a little log station, 
almost a hut, one might say, and there was an old- 
fashioned omnibus waiting to convey the passen- 
gers to the institution. I have a hazy feeling that 
if I had not been feeling so wretched, mentally, 
things might have seemed pleasant, for the road 
wound up a gentle slope through a real forest. 

After waiting a while in a big bare room, a nurse 
came and asked us if we were patients. We were 
then conducted to the office of the assistant doctor, 
a lady, who cheerfully assumed that it would be a 
delight to us to give a history of ourselves and 
antecedents. Then we were piloted to the head 
nurse’s office where we were asked to sign our 
names to the book of a thousand rules (more or 
less). We were not given time to read them but 
before the place for signature was a statement to 
the effect that the foregoing rules had been read. 
I suppose this gives the management a right to 
say that ignorance of the law excuses no one. I’m 


50 


The New Regime 


wondering what wonld be said to a person who 
couldn’t read, even if he had time. The nurse ver- 
bally informed us of some of the more important 
rules, such as not sneezing in each other’s faces, 
holding a piece of gauze before the mouth when 
coughing. We were told to put our handkerchiefs 
away, and were given a square of white gauze. 
Said gauze is collected night and morning. A 
shining tin cup was thrust in our hands and this 
we must carry everywhere we go, whether we ex- 
pectorate (isn’t that a nice word) or not. I noticed 
a man today who had his cup tied to his suspend- 
ers. Since I don’t expect to expectorate, I think 
I shall put my cup on a chain for a locket. Mercy, 
how I hate to carry that thing around. By the 
time the nurse was through with us, we were 
through with her. She showed us our lockers and 
beds, and said supper would be ready in twenty 
minutes. We put a few things away, and then sat 
by our beds until the bell rang. 

There were four other girls at our table. One 
of them, Loraine Belmond, a sweet-faced, well- 
bred girl, asked us our names and introduced us. 
After supper it was bed for everyone, for an hour. 
When the hour was up, almost everyone on the 
porch began to talk, and the talk was all about 
little Nat who had died that morning, in a room 
on the second floor. His lung collapsed, they said. 


51 


Saints^ Best 


I don’t know whether there is such a thing as that, 
bnt I am going to find out before I leave. When 
they weren’t talking about him, they told how 
many times they had filled up their sputum cups, 
how high their temperature ran, and all such 
things. The rain was pouring down, and by the 
time I had heard an hour’s talk I was ready to 
leave. It was then I wrote that despairing letter 
which you will have received before you get this. 

A nurse six feet four inches tall came to tell me 
that I am to report to the superintendent’s office 
for an examination at three o’clock. She, the 
nurse, is named ‘ ‘ Short. ’ ’ She is said to have re- 
marked once that her greatest ambition was to 
marry a man named Long, but so far she had met 
only two men of that name, and one was already 
married, and the other was ‘‘short” in everything 
she admired. She has for an intimate friend an- 
other nurse rather below the usual stature. Miss 
Tracy. They look odd together, and people call 
them Mutt and Jeffi, on the side. 

Dear Darwin: September 9, 1913. 

Your telegram was quite unnecessary. As men- 
tioned in the beginning of this letter (or should I 
call it this volume) I am still here. 

After Dr. Leeds examined me the other day, we 
had a little talk, and he said he expected I would 


52 


The New Regime 


make a good recovery. I suppose they say that to 
every one, though. 

The doctor is a short, but rather well-built man, 
not handsome, but quite distinguished, and has 
very fine manners. His hair is a little gray, and 
his face rather full and flushed. IVe heard so 
much about him in the short time IVe been here, 
that I am very curious to know what kind of a man 
he is. He makes a 100 per cent impression to 
start with. 

Kose. 


53 


CHAPTER VI 


THE LAY OF THE LAND 

Tamarack, September 30, 1913. 

Hear Darwin: 

It’s a good thing I have you to write to. If I 
didn’t I’d be keeping a diary as some of the girls 
think I am doing, since when I ’m not eating, sleep- 
ing, resting, or taking my wee bit of exercise, I’m 
writing. 

Being here is like being transplanted. At least 
it is seeing a new phase of life. I like the change, 
and as it has been so long since I had a real vaca- 
tion, I’m taking Dr. Rutledge’s advice and calling 
this a vacation. I only wish it were summer in- 
stead of fall, though it is so wonderfully beautiful 
that words fail me when I try to describe the 
beauty of these woods after the recent sharp frost, 
such profusion of rich color, scarlet, crimson and 
yellow, soft russet and gold, toned by somber 
brown. Dame Nature is surely in a lavish and 
sumptuous mood. Perhaps she foresees the bitter 
days of winter, when nippy breezes will play havoc 
with her adornment, and cast it upon the ground, 
and she must content herself with winter’s offering 
of snowy white. No wonder she revels in a riot of 


54 


The Lay of the Land 


color while she may, but doubtless later she will 
be grateful for the cool unchanging white, as she 
spends her leisure hours in the serious occupation 
of getting things ready for spring. 

I have been here almost a month, and am begin- 
ning to get a line on people and things. 

The assistant doctor is a woman. Dr. Mary Hull. 
She is into the thirties, I imagine, has good fea- 
tures and pretty, light hair. She is very up and 
coming, a live wire all right, a little brusque some- 
times, but I imagine most of it is on the surface, 
and I like her. Also she seems to like me. 

The matron, Erma Harper, is a dear little lady. 
They say she is older than Dr. Hull, but she looks 
about sixteen, especially when she has been hurry- 
ing a little, and her face gets flushed a trifle. She 
dresses very well when not in uniform. Her looks 
remind me of the heroines of southern romances. 
She is dark-haired, dark-eyed, graceful, and beau- 
tiful. Comment says she is the first capable ma- 
tron the place has had for a long time, which indi- 
cates that she is efficient as well as beautiful. It 
is a safe bet that she is the most popular person 
on the place. Dr. Hull is a close second, however. 

The head nurse, Rowena Lyons, is well-built, 
very well-built indeed. She appears efficient, is 
very bustling and is brusque plus in her manner. 
She doesn’t especially appeal to me. Gossip says 


55 


Saints^ Best 


that she can be relied on to report any infraction, 
minor or otherwise, of the thousand rules. Prob- 
ably that’s a good quality. One knows what to 
expect. So far I have not felt any particular in- 
clination to break any rules, except talking in rest 
hour occasionally, but perhaps I’ll feel more un- 
ruly when I feel better physically. I have not felt 
any of the restrictions a special hardship, but there 
seem to be a number of ^‘bugs” (slang for a tu- 
berculous person) whose chief aim is to see how 
many infractions of the rules they can get away 
with, even to their own detriment. 

A good deal of interest centers in an apparent 
love affair between Miss Lyons and the book- 
keeper, Mr. Engle. He’s a sort of indefinite per- 
son, the kind you always want to stick pins into 
to see if they are alive, but don’t, for fear the pin 
would go clear through. 

October 2, 1913. 

I have had almost an hour’s exercise this last 
w-eek, and have walked around the buildings, and 
down towards the station until I could go in the 
dark. 

There is one big building, the Main Building, in 
the center of an open space, with a thick wood back 
of it, and on either side, mostly evergreens of vari- 
ous kinds, and birches, while in front, beyond a 
small open area the woods begin again, and the 

56 


The Lay of the Land 


ground slopes down to a big lake. There are a 
number of cottages, painted a sober brown, some 
occupied by patients and some by employes. 
There is a small white cottage built for the super- 
intendent, which he occupies, but as he has no 
family he takes his meals in the officers’ dining 
room. Officers and nurses have quarters in the 
main building, where also the administration is 
centered. This building also contains quarters for 
newly arrived patients, and for those who are too 
ill to go to cottages. As soon as a patient has a 
good clinical record, he or she is transferred to 
one of the cottages, if there is a vacancy there, 
where no nurse is in attendance. Otherwise, one 
remains in the main building. Since removal to 
a cottage usually means improvement as well as 
less strict supervision, people are always on 
tenterhooks until they are transferred. Once a 
week patients report to the doctor for inspection 
of their clinical record, and their exercise time is 
increased or decreased accordingly. I was moved 
to the cottage yesterday morning, and spent all 
my exercise time, and then some, getting settled in 
my new quarters. I think the cottage is much 
nicer than the ward. It is more in the woods, and 
almost on the edge of the hill that slopes down 
to the lake. 

These cottages consist of two wings with central 
57 


Saints^ Rest 


part. Each wing is open on two sides and one 
end, that is, it is all screened with windows. There 
is room for eight patients in each wing. Heavy 
canvas curtains are provided at the windows to 
keep out a driving wind or too bright sun. Other- 
wise they are kept rolled up. The central part 
consists of two dressing rooms, in which are lock- 
ers, lavatories, shower bath, etc. The cottages are 
heated with stoves, one in each dressing room, but 
no heat in the wards. A big wash boiler is kept 
on one part of the stove and filled with water to 
use for hot water bottles. Miss Stewart, a girl 
who has been here for some time, has been giving 
me a routine of life at the cottage. Each patient 
has a ‘‘fire day” on which day she has to keep up 
the fires. She must keep watch also of the boiler 
and keep it filled with water. Each girl has to 
take her turn at dusting the cottage, keeping things 
in order, cleaning the washbowls, etc. A flat iron 
is kept on the stove, and once in a while one may 
get permission to wash and iron some 'article that 
should not be sent to the laundry. 

Our cottage is called Saints’ Rest, the other 
girls’ cottage is Wildwood, while the cottages for 
men are called Paradise Alley, and Stay-a- While. 
There is no nurse in charge of these, and no tele- 
phone or bell connection with the main building, 
but a nurse makes rounds twice a day, and twice 
at night, and the doctor once or twice. 


58 


The Lay of the Land 


You can’t write too often. You don’t know 
what your letters mean to me now. Far more than 
they used to. Perhaps because I have more time 
to read them, and to think about them. I am not 
corresponding with many of my old acquaintances. 
I was always so busy I didn’t have many really 
intimate friends. I did write once to Alice Brady 
shortly after coming, but when she wrote back and 
asked me if the letters were fumigated before be- 
ing sent out, it sort of damped my ardor. You 
know Dr. Rutledge told me the principal source of 
infection was from the expectoration of a person 
having tuberculosis, and I don’t expectorate at 
all, and of course I don’t enjoy the idea of people 
thinking I ’m dangerous, so no more letters to Alice 
Brady. In fact, I am going to slump badly on cor- 
respondence to everyone but you. 

Really, one doesn’t have as much time as might 
be expected. You see in the morning after break- 
fast we must make our beds, do our share of clean- 
ing up the cottage, then take our exercise, then 
undress and go to bed, and be absolutely quiet for 
half an hour. Then we must record our tempera- 
ture and pulse. Between then and dinner time I 
have a little extra time because so far I have not 
much exercise, but when I get three or four hours’ 
morning exercise. I’ll have to rush to get dressed 
for dinner. After dinner we have to undress again 


59 


Saints’ Best 


and go to bed until three or four o’clock. I haven’t 
any afternoon exercise yet, so have a little time 
before supper, which is generally the time when I 
write letters. After supper it is bed again for an 
hour. Then we can be up until nine, but the lights 
must go out at nine, sharp. 0, talk about a well- 
regulated life! A sixty-five dollar Swiss watch 
can’t begin to compete with us. 

Yours always, 
Eose. 


60 


CHAPTER VII 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS 

Hr. Leeds, as Rose had mentioned, was a man 
who made an excellent impression. He was schol- 
arly, brilliant, and well versed in the niceties of 
polite society. A fluent talker, he could hold an 
audience spellbound. He enjoyed a deserved 
standing in his profession, so far as actual knowl- 
edge and aptitude were concerned, and he had also 
no small ability as an organizer. In fact, he had 
almost a genius for administration, so far as the 
outlining of a program and its theoretical execu- 
tion were concerned. But against these qualities 
must be placed an unfortunate disposition. He 
was selfish, egotistic and hot-tempered, and these 
faults were fast becoming more apparent. 

His physical health seemed fairly good, but there 
were times when a certain ghastly pallor and ex- 
treme nervousness were danger signals, and no 
one voluntarily approached him then. Had he 
been able to keep his faults more in abeyance, he 
might easily have won the confidence and respect 
of his patients and employes, for in his pleasant 
moods his personality was attractive, due to his 
fine manners and his gift of language. He made 


61 


Saints^ Rest 


friends easily but lost them more easily. In the 
few instances where he held the friendship and es- 
teem of his associates for more than a brief period, 
there came inevitably a day when, a surge of anger 
and unreasonableness let the bars down, and the 
vision behind was such that none cared to risk a 
second look. He would have made an ideal organ- 
izer, traveling from place to place, having only a 
brief association with people. In such a position 
he might have kept himself held in high esteem. 
As it was, he had held his present position chiefly 
because of his ability as a financial administrator, 
and the difficulty in securing a mau with the requi- 
site technical knowledge who had no home ties. 
The distance from a good town and school pre- 
cluded the position being taken by anyone with a 
family. 

Too egotistic to discern why, he faintly sensed 
the lack of confidence, and kept the population of 
the sanatorium shifting to such an extent that 
many patients were discharged before their gain 
had become sufficient to warrant a promise of per- 
manency. Even with the frequent change in pop- 
ulation there was always much discord. Though 
there were times when it was not apparent and 
things seemed to move smoothly, the fear of an 
outbreak of his temper was such that there was 
always an undercurrent of fear and restlessness 


62 


His Royal Highness 


among the patients, and to a lesser extent among 
the employes, since most of them could change 
their location at will. 

Kose, like many others when they first came, was 
favorably impressed with Dr. Leeds, and later he 
was pleased with her cheerful acceptance of cir- 
cumstances, and her willingness to conform to the 
restrictions. Also she had a sense of loyalty to 
those in authority, very pleasing to his autocratic 
spirit, and besides was of such a forgiving dis- 
position that she failed to comprehend his char- 
acter as fully and as quickly as did some others. 
Phyllis, who in spite of her younger years, was 
possessed of a more acute perception, took a dis- 
like to him on entrance, and this dislike increased 
daily, and later led to an open break which caused 
her to leave the institution. 

Things had moved smoothly and there had been 
less friction than usual, at least among the patients 
that fall, and Rose and Phyllis had adjusted them- 
selves rather quickly to their changed circum- 
stances. Possibly Phyllis deserved more credit. 
In her pleasant home she was and had been an 
adored only child, and while the financial means 
of the family were sma*ll, and she had learned to 
economize in a wholesome manner, she had not had 
to be denied the pleasures of youth. Bright, pretty 
and intelligent, her three years at college had been 


63 


Saints^ Best 


one triumph after another, and at home everything 
centered around her. In spite of this she was not 
selfish nor spoiled, and that she could so easily 
adjust herself to being away from home, and be- 
coming only one among a hundred, marked well 
the fineness of her character. 

Still, of the two, Kose was perhaps the more 
content, which was only a logical sequence, since it 
was the first time she had been free from the worry 
and rush of a business life. She had worked hard 
during school life, with little time for play, and 
later had doggedly devoted her entire strength to 
becoming proficient enough to be eligible for a 
promotion that would be worth while. She did not 
love money for its own sake, her generous nature 
could not have understood that, but the bitterness 
of her dependence when a mere child had taught 
her almost too well the value of independence, and 
when taken in hand by Miss Eay, and Dr. Eutledge, 
she was in a fair way to lose her youth as well as 
her health, and become a mere grubbing machine. 
The change from this to a more or less care-free 
life, freedom from worries, release from the daily 
grind, together with long hours of sleep and time 
to indulge in a little frivolity, seemed a fair rec- 
ompense, especially when it was to bring her back 
to health, renewed earning capacity, and a clearer 
vision. Not that she analyzed all this, she merely 


64 


His Royal Highness 


felt it, and waxed content. So many months and 
years had she trod the hard city pavements that 
the morning walk on the needle strewn paths or 
the winding sandy road, sheltered by the pines, 
and warmed by the flaming colors of the deciduous 
trees, had been a revelation. Later when the flam- 
ing leaves had sought their resting place, and 
leaves and needles were sprinkled with feathery 
flakes of the early snow fall, she held her breath, 
the whiteness and the beauty of the snow touched 
a hidden spring, and youth flowed back into her 
veins. The cool, snappy breezes succeeded occa- 
sionally in bringing a glow of pink to her pallid 
face, and one by one they blew away the tiny lines 
in the forehead. To be sure, youth isnT far away 
from twenty-six, or rather it shouldnT be, but not 
since she had been a little child had Eose felt real 
youth, just the joy of living. She scarcely knew 
Avhen it came. Perhaps it came one snowy morn- 
ing after she had been there almost two months. 
She had turned from the beaten road one morn- 
ing to explore a rough and narrow road that led 
olT somewhere into the deep woods. Suddenly she 
came to a clearing. Cords of wood and piles of 
branches testified to the hand of man, but the big 
white flakes falling gently down testified to the 
hand of God, the master surgeon, covering the 
open wounds. Eose looked around her. The faint 

65 


Saints^ Best 


fall of an ax told that the wood choppers were in 
the far distance, and she sank back against a fra- 
grant heap of cedar branches. She closed her eyes, 
the soft snow drifted caressingly over her face 
and nestled against her woolly cap and thick coat, 
and when she opened her eyes again she knew that 
youth was hers, that life was more than a material 
competence. Half unconsciously she quoted, 
know not where His islands lift their fronded 
palms in air; I only know I can not drift beyond 
His loving care.’’ 

A crackling as of twigs under a heavy foot 
brought her to her feet, and she stood face to face 
with Murray Dunning, a senior medical student, 
who had entered the sanatorium shortly before 
she did. 

‘‘Why, Mr. Dunning, I thought you men walked 
in the opposite direction this week.” 

“So we do, but I’ve very nearly traversed a cir- 
cle, and am taking a short cut. May I walk back 
with you?” 

“0, I’d like you to, but,” with a comic-tragic 
air which surprised her more than it did him, “it’s 
against the rules, you know.” 

“Confound it, a fellow can’t even be polite, can 
he? Well, it won’t take over fifteen minutes to 
get back to the sanatorium. We can enjoy this 
snowfall together at least five minutes. Do you 

66 


His Royal Highness 


know/’ abruptly, ‘‘you’re holding your face up as 
if the snowflakes were kissing you!” 

“They are,” said Rose, “the Man in the Moon 
sent them to me, via the north wind.” 

Murray laughed, a jolly companionable laugh. 
“If that’s what makes your cheeks so pink, I’d en- 
courage him, if I were you. You don’t look like 
the same girl. That first night at supper you sat 
where I couldn’t help but see you every time I 
raised my eyes, and you looked so white and un- 
happy, and your hair was stretched back so tight, 
that I sort of hated to look at you, but now, why 
don’t you always have pink cheeks and wear woolly 
caps and have little wisps of curls blowing around 
your face?” 

“Well, you see,” she answered, with sober lips 
but laughing eyes, “I am just getting acquainted 
with the Man in the Moon. I never had time be- 
fore. I’ve lain awake hours lately, just looking up 
at him, and thinking what a nice man he is, and 
how dreadfully my education had been neglected 
not to know him better. I’d almost forgotten there 
was a Man in the Moon, but we’re getting ac- 
quainted fast, and he’s helping me to renew old 
friends. You see, I lived in the country until I 
was twelve, but I’d forgotten there were such 
things as deep woods and alluring paths, and 

67 


Saints^ Rest 


lovely big snowflakes, and I love it all so mnch it 
almost hurts. ’ ’ 

She paused and looked a little uncertainly at her 
companion. His frank brown eyes looked straight 
back. 

understand,’’ he said soberly. “All this,” 
and he waved his arm, “helps one to think. It 
sweeps away the cobwebs. I didn’t know it would 
do that. In fact, I didn’t realize there were any 
dusty corners in my head, and I’ve been rebellious 
as could be at having to give up my work. I had 
only five months left to finish my senior year as 
a medical student, and it hurt like the dickens to 
stop. Before I got any exercise I lay in bed and 
growled like a bear, and I didn’t feel much better 
mentally even after I got out a little. Maybe it 
was partly because I took my walks with a fellow 
as grouchy as myself, but this week I started out 
alone, and every time I’ve ended up by being a 
little more cheerful than I was when I started out. 
If I can get back to my work with a clear head 
and a firm hand. I’ll not begrudge the time. In 
fact, even if I don’t make it physically, I’d rather 
die here than in the city.” 

“So the snowflakes can cover you gently, as did 
robins the babes in the wood?” quoted Kose. 

He laughed, and Kose laughed, and a sense of 
comradeship enveloped them as gently and unob- 

68 


His Royal Highness 

trusively as the snowflakes fell upon them and 
aronnd them. 

The five minutes had lengthened to twenty-five 
when Eose looked at her watch and exclaimed, 
‘‘We’d better hurry back. AVe will hardly have 
time to get our half hour’s rest before dinner.” 
She nodded brightly and started. He s^vung into 
step beside her. 

“Eules or no rules, I’m going to walk as far as 
the bend with you.” 

Little bits of personal items, comments on their 
associates, and the routine of their lives, enlivened 
the rest of their walk. At the turn of the road 
Murray lifted his cap and the snowflakes fell on 
his ruddy hair. 

“Since I don’t suppose his Eoyal Highness 
would for a moment believe our meeting was acci- 
dental and accept that reason, if we offered it, I 
believe it’s just as well to part company here.” 

“Isn’t it ridiculous!” laughed Eose, “but rules 
are rules, and men and women are not to associate 
except once in a while on some festive occasion. 
Good-bye. ’ ’ 

“Just one minute,” called Murray, “one of the 
nurses told me yesterday that the doctor is going 
to appoint a committee to get up a Halloween 
party, and has asked her to suggest people that 
she thought would be good to help plan things. 
You knoAV about two-thirds of the people here 
69 


Saints’ Rest 


need to be amused. She asked me about it, and I 
told her I wouldn’t if I could get out of it, but if 
they ask you. I’ll change my mind. How about it?” 
^H’ll ask the Man in the Moon,” answered Eose 

gaily. 


70 


CHAPTER VIII 


MR. AND MRS. T. B. BACILLI 

It was customary to have some sort of an enter- 
tainment for or by the patients on the various holi- 
days, and to this end Dr. Leeds appointed a com- 
mittee of six to make plans. Rose, Phyllis, May 
Stewart, Murray Dunning, Bert Dalrymple, and 
Owen Bowling were called to the doctor ^s office, 
and told of their duties. 

‘‘Previous committees,” said Dr. Leeds, in con- 
clusion, “have thought more of having a good time 
themselves than of anything else. I hope you can 
do better. Make your plans and let me know about 
them.” 

“We’ll do the best we can,” answered Rose, who 
had been named chairman. 

“Yes, yes, I don’t doubt that,” replied the doc- 
tor, opening the door and dismissing them with a 
courteous inclination. 

Rose called a meeting that evening in the tele- 
phone room, which opened off from the long re- 
ception hall. She was full of enthusiasm, for she 
had had little chance or time for social activities 
in her busy, anxious life. Phyllis was enthusiastic 
to a lesser degree, for she had been surfeited with 


71 


Saints’ Rest 


good times, until her health had begun to fail. 
Owen, an ‘‘old-timer,’’ was somewhat dubious. 

“The crowd won’t mix well, too many ages, na- 
tionalities, and dispositions,” he declared, “and 
besides. His Koyal Highness always gets sore 
about something, and there’s the devil (excuse me, 
ladies) to pay afterwards.” 

“Well,” said Rose in desperation, “let’s get up 
something that everybody can enjoy, and take part 
in if they want to.” 

“That’s the idea,” retorted Owen, “but what 
is that something to be ? I ’ve been here almost two 
years, and it’s harder than the dickens to get 
something that everybody likes and that doesn’t 
cause a rumpus of some sort.” 

“Maybe if we all are enthusiastic, even if we 
don’t feel so, and do our share, and a little more, 
we can get the rest to pitch in, and have a good 
time,” said Bert. 

“Everybody likes to eat and dress up,” sug- 
gested Phyllis. “We can do those things, have a 
regular masquerade.” 

“We can fix dandy decorations, too, for Hallow- 
een. It’s one of the easiest holidays there is to 
decorate for,” observed May. 

“Let’s get right down to business and plan re- 
freshments and decorations tonight, and leave the 


72 


Mr, and Mrs. T. B. Bacilli 


masquerade and any other plans we may think of 
until tomorrow evening/^ said Eose. 

After much laughing discussion the refresh- 
ments were decided on, a scheme of decoration laid 
out, and the committee adjourned to think things 
over until next evening. 

As they left the building, Murray remarked to 
Eose, Sorry we can^t walk with you girls to the 
cottage, but His Eoyal Highness would sure get 
after us if we did. ’ ’ 

‘‘We’d better beat it to the cottage as quicldy as 
we can,” put in May. “We have just ten minutes 
to get ready for bed and Miss Short makes rounds 
about two minutes after nine.” 

In the middle of the night Eose woke and lay 
awake trying to think of some novel entertainment, 
which would be suited to the crowd. Finally she 
gave an excited little crow, crept out of bed, and 
stole silently down the long aisle to the dressing 
room. There she drew a table up close to the 
stove, and for an hour or more worked out the 
idea. It wasn’t new, the idea, but it had possibil- 
ities, and she wanted them ready to exploit the 
next evening. 

“Eose says she has an idea,” began Phyllis, the 
minute the committee had assembled. 

“Good for her, let’s hear it,” put in Murray, 
“ideas are scarce around this place. The bugs 


73 


Saints^ Best 


drive ’em away. That’s why I haven’t any left. 
Had a head full of ’em once.” 

^‘What’s your head full of now?” asked Phyllis 
saucily. 

^‘Pessimism,” answered Owen, before Murray 
had time to reply. 

^‘Cut it out, Bowling, and give Miss Marohn a 
chance to tell us the idea,” said Murray with a 
cheerful grin, which rather belied the accusation. 

Eose flushed a trifle. She was not used to taking 
the lead in social aifairs, but she was determined 
to make good. 

‘‘Why I thought,” she ventured, “that we might 
have a mock marriage in addition to a masquer- 
ade. We can think up some ridiculous costumes, 
and have a funny ceremony. It could be made the 
event of the evening, and surely it would be inter- 
esting to those watching as well as the rest. I 
thought it would be funny to have a big tall man 
for a bride and a short fat man for groom, and have 
it sort of a suffragette wedding.” 

“Good,” declared several at once. 

“Dick Wigdahl is just the man for the bride,” 
declared May. “He’ll look scrumptious in flowing 
robes and a veil. ’ ’ 

“And Louis Olson for the groom,” added Bert. 

“Owen will make a fine minister. He’s so used 
to giving advice,” added Murray. 


74 


Mr, and Mrs, T, B, Bacilli 


‘‘We must have a father and mother for the 
bride, and plenty of bridesmaids and ushers,’’ 
said Phyllis. 

“Before we go much farther with our plans we 
had better see if the doctor approves,” put in 
Owen, “he may like it and he may not. You never 
can tell about him.” 

At length the plans were formulated sufficiently 
to lay before the doctor. First Kose handed him 
the list of desired refreshments. He scowled a tri- 
fle over the item “coffee,” but left it on, and said 
he would hand the list to the matron. This re- 
lieved the committee of any further responsibility 
in that respect. The plans for decoration also met 
his approval, and he promised to see that the 
needed supplies were secured. Two numbers of 
the musical program he marked off, saying that 
those two patients were not able to take part. 
After he had been given the details of the mock 
marriage, he gave his consent to it, and told the 
committee to go ahead. 

Then began two weeks of good hard work. A 
few who were asked to take part consented at once, 
a few flatly refused, and others had to be coaxed. 
Some who were willing to take part were not al- 
lowed by the doctor, since their exercise time was 
not sufficient. 

Notices were made and posted in the various 
75 


Saints’ Best 


buildings, urging^ everybody who could, to take 
part, and dress up. Those who wished help in de- 
signing and making costumes were requested to 
call on the committee which would give all the aid 
possible. The committee found itself up to the 
ears in work. In fact, the members began to think 
they had bit off more than they could chew, but 
they kept at it, and finally a wave of enthusiasm 
swept over the population, and offers of help were 
received which made things a little easier. Girls 
and boys who were not able to do hard work spent 
their spare time cutting out witches, cats and bats 
to be used for decorations. Costumes were evolved, 
and a general spirit of excitement prevailed. 

The afternoon of the 30th the committee and a 
few others gathered in the dining room, which was 
the only room available for the entertainment, and 
stretched a wide strip of yellow bunting around the 
walls. When this was done, the numerous witches, 
cats, and bats were pinned thickly on it, and black 
streamers were hung from chandelier to chande- 
lier. Numerous pumpkins, their smooth shiny 
surfaces converted into cheerfully grinning faces, 
were placed in every available spot. 

^‘Too darn bad the crowd has to see so much of 
it beforehand, but we just couldn’t do all this after 
supper. It will be all we can do to get the tables 
out of the way, and the chairs fixed. Guess we had 


76 


Mr. and Mrs. T. B. Bacilli 


better call in some fellows who donH have to dress 
to help with that part/’ observed Murray, as the 
bunch stood back to look at the effect of the deco- 
rations. 

‘‘The waiters would help with the tables if the 
doctor would let them take part, but he doesn’t 
approve of patients and employes associating any 
more than can be helped,” said Owen. 

Supper was early that night, and by seven 
o’clock the dining room was transformed. Eose 
gave a satisfied look at the room, and the arriving 
audience, some in everyday dress, but many at- 
tired in weird and fantastic costumes. Then she 
slipped upstairs to a little room which had been 
delegated as a gathering place for the final touches 
to the bridal party, and such others as needed as- 
sistance. As Eose entered the room, a buxom 
negress curtsied low. “Evenin’ ma’am, I done 
hear yo chile is gitting married tonight. Please 
accept my condolations. ’ ’ 

Eose, who took the part of Mrs. T. B. Bunch, 
mother of the bride, attired in a matronly costume, 
her raven hair powdered a snowy white, replied, 
“That’s very kind of you, Liza. Would you mind 
getting the shears? I must cut a ribbon to tie 
Tillie’s bouquet with. Everything else is ready, I 
believe.” 

Liza, known in private life as Bob Swanson, ob- 
77 


Saints^ Rest 


tained the shears, and Eose commenced cutting a 
wide strip of yellow cheesecloth. Hastily she 
gathered up the bouquet, tied an immense bow, 
and laid it in the arms of the bride, and the pro- 
cession began to form. 

‘‘For heaven’s sake,” broke in Owen, forget- 
ting for a moment the dignity of the clergyman he 
was supposed to represent, “I can’t find the book 
with the service. Where in thunder is it I” 

High and low the room was searched. 

“I know I put it on that table,” he asserted. 
“Some one has probably stolen it. This is a 
pretty fix. I can’t begin to remember all that 
dope. ’ ’ 

A wandering witch floated in at the door. “Most 
ready to start down? Crowd is getting impatient, 
and the organist sent me to hustle things along.” 

Another search ensued which took up several 
precious minutes. The committee were in despair. 
Were all their plans to be frustrated by the loss 
of the precious book? 

“Liza,” exclaimed Eose, to the buxom negress, 
who stood unmoved during the excitement, placidly 
powdering the shiny spots on her face with lamp 
black, “do run dowmstairs and see if anybody 
knows anything about that book.” 

“What book. Ma’am?” 


78 


Mr, and Mrs. T. B. Bacilli 


‘^0, a little brown book that has the service 
pasted in it. We jnst have to have it.’^ 

‘‘0, my Gawd, Ma’am,’’ ejaculated Liza, clap- 
ping her ample hand to her ample bosom, ‘‘I done 
stuck that book in here to help make my figger 
fine,” and she bolted from the room, returning a 
few minutes later wdth the precious book. 

The signal was given, and to the strains of ‘ M ’d 
Love to Live in Loveland with a Girl Like You,” 
the procession moved slowly down the back stairs, 
through the hall and into the dining room. 

First came the bride, leaning on the arm of her 
father, and the remainder of the procession fol- 
lowed, and placed themselves in the end of the din- 
ing room allotted for this purpose. It was a laugh- 
able spectacle. The bride, tall and dignified, was 
garbed in a flowing robe of red cheesecloth, encir- 
cled with sash of brilliant yellow. Pink hose, black 
satin slippers, and a long veil of gauze tastefully 
arranged with wreath of forget-me-nots, completed 
her costume. In her arms she carried a huge bou- 
quet of cornstalks and cabbage leaves, tied with 
long yellow streamers. The groom was attired in 
a suit two sizes too large for him and was deco- 
rated fiercely as to mustaches. Mr. T. B. Bunch, 
father of the bride, leaned dejectedly on his spade. 
Being an old farmer and set in his ways, he 
wouldn’t relinquish that spade for any daughter. 


79 


Saints^ Best 


Mrs. Bunch, beside him, wiped her eyes openly, 
overcome at the prospect of losing her beloved 
daughter. Miss Justa Doughnut carried the ring, 
and Miss Carrie Veil kept the bride’s veil from 
wiping up microbes from the floor. The maid of 
honor. Miss Fancy Leaves, was dressed in a cos- 
tume of vivid green leaves, pinned closely over a 
white foundation. Mr. U. R. Best, the best man, 
rivaled the groom in his fantastic adornment. 
Misses Ima Dream, Sophia and Marie Yama- 
Yama, Violet Bluebell, and Messrs. Red Cloud 
Chippewa, Hans Lichtenstein, Happy Hooligan 
and High Jinks, as bridesmaids and ushers, com- 
pleted the rollicking party. 

After the laughter occasioned by their appear- 
ance had died away, Mr. 0 . TJ. Splicer proceeded 
with the ceremony. 

“Dearly Beloved, it is a most happy occasion 
which has brought us here together tonight. We 
all are called upon to solemnly be witnesses of the 
uniting of a happy couple in our midst, a couple 
whom we not only appreciate highly, but recom- 
mend to all who should happen to be in similar 
circumstances, for their unusual zeal and untiring 
efforts to find each other, and get their hearts 
tied together. 

“Many of us know, perhaps by sad experiences, 
yea, by real disappointments, how difficult this 


80 


Mr. and Mrs. T. B. Bacilli 

task often turns out to be. The conquest of a heart 
is a very delicate matter, and arouses very often 
the most tenacious jealousies of envying rivals. 

‘‘These two in our midst have triumphed over 
all obstacles and carry the palm of victory in their 
hands. We rejoice with them. 

“Now before we proceed to unite you for lifers 
journey, let me give you some good fatherly ad- 
vice. Take it as coming from one who knows only 
from hearsay what he is talking about. You have 
not only one, but two mothers. Have nothing to 
do with these old ladies. 

“Be careful that never any canning business 
separates you, but should it be otherwise, see that 
you be canned together. Keep away from the 
doctor. 

“I can foresee plainly, in looking at you, that 
you will have daily quarrels and serious disagree- 
ments. In such case consult any old maid or any 
old bachelor and follow their experienced advice. 

“Are there any here present who know any rea- 
son why this man and this woman should not be 
joined together in matrimony? If there are, I 
charge you to make it known, or henceforth and 
forever hold your peace. 

Up jumped Liza. 

“Judge, I seen the groom steal the ring from 


81 


Saints^ Best 


the cook this morning. He ain’t no fit man to be 
trusted. ’ ’ 

The Reverend 0. U; Splicer turned accusing 
eyes on the groom. 

‘‘What have you to say for yourself!” 

“You’d steal a dozen rings for such a charming 
lady, yourself,” boldly answered the accused. 

‘ ‘ Right you are, let us proceed. ’ ’ 

“I now direct myself to you, my beloved couple, 
in this, the most serious moment of your lives. 
T. B. Bacillus, wilt thou have this woman, Tillie 
Belinda Bunch, here present, to be thy undisputed 
treasure ! Wilt thou love her, honor her, obey her, 
be faithful to her in prosperity and adversity, at 
home or at the sanatorium, as long as you both 
shall live! If this is your sincere wish, answer 
yes. ’ ’ 

“Yep.” 

“Wilt thou promise to do the cooking, washing, 
scrubbing, baking, etc., see that the meals are 
served on time! Wilt thou promise never to serve 
cocoa or postum for breakfast, but always real 
coffee!” 

“Yep.” 

“Wilt thou promise to be sweet-tempered, lov- 
ing and affectionate at all times, and be a loving 
helpmeet to thy devoted wife!” 

“Yep.” 


82 


Mr. and Mrs. T. B. Bacilli 


Here the minister turned to the bride. 

‘‘Tillie Belinda Bunch, wilt thou take this man, 
T. B. Bacillus, here present, to be thy wedded hus- 
band ? Wilt thou love him, cherish and honor him, 
and bring him up in the way he should go, so long 
as you both shall live? If this is thy sincere de- 
sire, answer I do.’’ 

‘‘You bet.” 

“Wilt thou support this man in the style to 
which he has been accustomed ; keep him supplied 
with silk hose, hair nets, and chewing gum?” 

“You bet.” 

“Wilt thou promise not to spend more than 
seven nights in the week at suffragette meetings ? ’ ’ 

“You bet.” 

“Wilt thou promise not to be ill-tempered when 
meals are unavoidably late, the bread sour or the 
steak burned, and never to swear when you can 
not find a collar button?” 

“You bet.” 

Turning to the groom again, the minister asked 
solemnly, “What token will you give to show that 
you will be faithful in performing these sacred 
vows?” 

Here Miss Justa Doughnut presented the ring, 
a plain brown doughnut, sparkling with powdered 
sugar, and the groom placed it on the thumb of his 
bride’s right hand. 


83 


Saints^ Rest 


‘‘Let this ring be a token of your constant and 
true affection. Join hands. I now pronounce you 
man and wife, Mr. and Mrs. T. B. Bacilli. You 
are now open to congratulations.’’ 

The crowd surged forward, but first in the line 
was Liza. She grasped the hand which the bride 
gingerly extended and exclaimed, “May the Lord 
bress you both, and accept my confabulations.” 

The rest of the evening was given over to a 
short musical program, games, and refreshments. 
MTiile part of the committee promoted the games, 
the rest busied themselves placing three tables 
where the bridal party had stood. These were 
stacked high with plates of sandwiches, doughnuts, 
cake, candy, and nuts, and steaming pots of coffee. 
AVhen serving time came, the committee took their 
places and handed out loaded plates and filled 
cups. The coffee was a great treat, since its use 
generally was prohibited. At ten-thirty the crowd 
dispersed, all but the committee who surveyed the 
littered room, and the dirty dishes with feelings 
of dismay. 

“Such a mess,” exclaimed Eose, in disgust. 
“It’s the first party I ever went to where people 
threw nutshells and scraps on the floor.” 

“Well, you can’t expect much else, in such a big 
and mixed crowd. Some of these folks never went 
to a party before,” answered Owen. 


84 


Mr, and Mrs, T, B, Bacilli 


‘‘Nothing for it, but to tackle it,’’ said Murray. 
“His Eoyal Highness said we must clean up the 
place. The waiters won’t do it.” 

Dishes were carried out in the serving room, 
washed and put away, the floor was swept, tables 
and chairs put back, and decorations taken down. 
When the last bit was done, the committee sat 
down and rejoiced because the entertainment had 
been so successful as evidenced by the compli- 
mentary remarks they had overheard, and almost 
wept because they were so tired and nervous, and 
they registered a solemn vow that never again 
would they get things ready and clean up after- 
ward. 

“We tried to do too much, I guess,” admitted 
Bose. 

“If we pull off another stunt like this we will 
have hemorrhages and die,” gloomily remarked 
Murray. 

“0, you ray of sunshine,” commented Phyllis. 

“0, you curly locks,” retorted Murray, pulling 
a shining curl as she passed. 

“I’m tired, but just the same I’m glad we made 
a success of it,” and Kose sighed a relieved sigh. 

“That’s just the trouble. Now His Koyal High- 
ness will put everything on to us. We’d have 
saved ourselves time and strength in the future if 
we had made a failure. You mark my words.” 


85 


Saints^ Best 


Three cheers for Owen, the Prophet,” sang 
Phyllis. guess we are all too tired to talk any 
more. First thing you know we’ll be crabbing at 
each other. It’s twelve o’clock and time to skip 
to the cottage.” 

wonder,” ruminated Kose, as they got ready 
for bed, ‘4f we can rest tomorrow instead of ex- 
ercising. I am too tired to breathe. I shall ask 
the doctor the first thing in the morning.” 


86 


CHAPTER IX 


WHO’S WHO 

Tamarack, November 4, 1913. 
Darwin, my dear: 

Just np from the evening rest hour. The six- 
teen of ns are in the two dressing rooms, every- 
body in various stages of undress, some crochet- 
ing, some reading, some writing letters, and every- 
body talking a little at intervals. There is a big 
fire in the little heater, and Phyllis sits upon the 
floor, cuddling our cat, Michael Angelo, in her 
arms. Michael Angelo is our latest acquisition. 
Phyllis picked him up in Shillington, our nearest 
town, when she went to the dentist one day. He 
is such an angelic looking cat that we call him 
Michael Angelo. 

I didn’t mean to let a week go by without writ- 
ing, but as I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been busy. 
The last three days before our Halloween party 
I didn’t have a minute to spare, and since then I 
have been recuperating. Everything turned out 
about as we planned, and we can say that our party 
was a success. Even the knockiest of the knock- 
ers had a good time, but I really think there was 

87 


Saints^ Rest 


too much excitement, and we worked too hard. 
I should think it would be better to have social 
times oftener, and not have them so elaborate. 
Then it wouldn’t be unusual enough to cause so 
much excitement, but perhaps I don’t understand. 

Am I really enjoying myself? Yes, I am, es- 
pecially now that I have my typewriter to use. 
Of course there are things which I don’t like. 
There isn’t any privacy with sixteen people in 
one small building, and some of them are not 
especially congenial, but since I can’t afford any- 
thing better I am thankful to have this, and any- 
way, there are lots of funny things. 

The food is quite often poorly prepared and 
very often is cold by the time it gets to us, and 
the eggs are awful. I seldom try them, but the 
bread is good, and so is the milk, and there is 
plenty of it. I always manage to get enough of 
something. Phyllis and I both are blessed with 
awfully plebeian appetites. How Mrs. Sullivan 
would rejoice to see me eat! Some of the more 
finical look askance at us because of our appar- 
ent disregard of certain things, but we get so 
tired of hearing people knock that sometimes we 
pretend to like things we really do not like. I 
notice, though, that some of those who complain 
the most about the food seem to thrive on it. 

You ask about my new acquaintances. Maybe 
88 


Who’s Who 


I’ll not be good at pen painting, but I’ll try. Let 
me introduce you to some of those who stand out 
clearest, and whom I like the best. 

Nothing but your most conventional and well- 
bred bow will do for Miss Loraine Belmond, a 
living model of good form, quite easily the most 
stylish and attractive lady among us; a little too 
dainty for anything but a parlor, hence not as 
popular as might be. Fastidious to a marked 
degree she excites the ridicule of some, the toler- 
ance of others, but is very well liked by quite a 
few. For myself, I consider her a most charming 
companion when I have on a silk frock, and my 
nails manicured nicely, and I really admire her 
enough to hope that some day I may enjoy her 
companionship under different circumstances. I 
love her for her dainty charm, her soft brown hair 
so simply done, her clean unruffled appearance, 
and her lovely manners. I’m constrained to shake 
her for her appreciation of her charms, and her 
tendency to dwell on former prosperous conditions. 

A cordial handshake will be welcomed here. Miss 
Edith Dickman, a lady from top to toe, with a 
good substantial mind. 

Next, to show how cosmopolitan we must be. 
Miss Choyce Washington, a lady of color. Her 
great pride centers in her switch of straight black 
hair, which crowns her own fuzzy top in delight- 


89 


Saints^ Best 


ful inconsistency. Lond-monthed and noisy, she 
is a thorn in our flesh, hut furnishes a certain 
amount of harmless fun. For instance, when Miss 
Stewart lamented the coat of tan on her neck. Miss 
Washington cheerfully remarked, ^^Use lemon 
juice, Stewart, I do.” Or myself speaking, ‘^Miss 
Washington, do you use hair curlers, or a curling 
iron ? ^ ’ Miss Washington : ‘ ^ 0, la. Gappy, my hair 
is naturally curly. I never have to curl it.” 

Miss N. Mabel Daughan. Mabel spelled with an 
‘‘e-1,” mind you. A harmless lady of uncertain 
years. 

May Stewart, good scout, full of fun, but level- 
headed. Past the first flush of youth, but with 
youth in her heart, she is a good friend for a 
quiet hour, and a gay companion for a frolic. Her 
rather plain face is redeemed by a wealth of soft, 
golden hair, and merry eyes. A fine musician, 
she furnishes much pleasure to every one. 

Mrs. Ferber, a large Jewish lady, of rather 
pleasant appearance. She is a maternal soul, and 
will mother any one who needs it. Usually of 
calm demeanor, she has occasional spells of de- 
pression, occasioned by the misdoings of a son, 
who I suspect is something of a rascal. She 
has several children and glows with pride in speak- 
ing of all but this one. She speaks English badly, 
and her conversation is a delight to us. She has 


90 


Who’s Who 


picked up various slang phrases from her children 
and uses them in the most serious way imaginable. 
Also she has a wonderful voice and when the mood 
is on, she will get into the middle of the floor here 
at the cottage, and sing a few lines from some 
ragtime favorite, in a manner to rival an operatic 
star. Her favorite selection, and ours, is ‘‘0, You 
Beautiful Doll, You great big beautiful doll. Let 
me put my arms about you, I could never live with- 
out you. Oh, you beautiful doll. You great big beau- 
tiful doll. ’ ’ When she is through, we all are shak- 
ing with laughter. 

Phyllis Channing, my pal. IVe written you a 
little about her before. The glow and go of youth 
are hers, a keen mind and a ready tongue, a college 
girl, boyishly slender, lithe and graceful. She 
surprises me by her clear insight, her grasp of 
the essential, and she captivates me by her youth- 
ful assurance, and amuses me by her frank ex- 
pressions. Plenty of pep. 

Permit me. Miss Daisy Baroni. Her regular 
features have given her the prestige of being the 
leading beauty. Serenely unconscious of her good 
looks she arouses no one’s envy and all unite in 
loving little “Jimmy,” as she is called. 

We have also a delightfully pretty and giddy 
young person, Josie Scott, whose wilful disregard 
of the rules against the association of men and 


91 


Saints^ Rest 


women is equalled (so far) only by her apparent 
immunity to discipline. Just now she and a young 
fellow, Art Nelson, have a terrible case on each 
other. You see if people of the opposite sex speak 
more than once or twice to each other they are 
immediately marked by the other patients and the 
nurses as having a ‘‘case’’ on each other. In 
this particular instance the point is well taken, 
so much so that I am in daily fear that they will 
be “canned.” Not that I care about what hap- 
pens to Art. From what I know of him by sight 
and from hearsay I don’t think much of him, and 
I wonder what so bright and pretty a girl as Josie 
can see in him. She is a lovable little mischief, 
and I’d hate to see her get what is coming to her 
for her heedlessness. 

There are quite a number of rather young girls 
in the other wing of our cottage. Some of them are 
almost as giddy as Josie, but exercise a little more 
caution. However, I rather admire Josie for her 
frankness. 

Owing to the restrictions, there are only a few 
of the men I ’ve met enough to feel acquainted with. 
While on the Halloween committee, I became 
rather well acquainted with the three men who 
were fellow-members. Just talking to men or 
just talking to women gets rather tiresome, so all 
six of us made the most of our opportunities, but 
92 


Who^s Who 


we did good work on onr committee and won the 
thanks of the doctor, though perhaps he didn’t 
just like the good time we got out of it. 

One of the men is a senior medical student. Dr. 
Hull introduced us soon after I came. We hap- 
pened to be in her office at the same time for some- 
thing, and later I met him accidentally one morning 
on my walk. He appears to be very nice, and I 
imagine will turn out to be as fine a doctor as 
Dr. Rutledge. Which reminds me that one day a 
new patient who knew Dr. Rutledge made a critical 
remark about him, and Mrs. Ferber, the Jewish 
lady who is one of his former patients, flew all to 
pieces about it, and then the rest of us said our 
little say, and the poor misguided person who made 
the criticism hasn’t dared peep since. She is the 
only person I have heard criticize him, and he 
sends a good many patients here. They all seem 
to like him. 

I started to tell you about Mr. Dunning, the 
medical student. He’s 28, rather sober appearing, 
but has a merry twinkle in his brown eyes. He says 
he’s going to finish his course, and then get a po- 
sition in some tuberculosis institution. He’s crazy 
about this kind of work, and thinks there is a fine 
chance to do something worth while. He doesn’t 
say much about Dr. Leeds, but he doesn’t approve 
of his methods in many ways. He, Mr. Dunning, 


93 


Saints’ Rest 


thinks that ease of mind is more important to a 
patient with this trouble than almost anything else, 
for he says that if a person is worried or upset 
over things, he can’t relax as he should, and he 
doesn’t think the mental atmosphere here is what it 
should be. He says he has talked with Dr. Leeds 
quite a bit, and in theory the doctor agreed with 
him, and said that he didn’t seem able to establish 
that spirit here. Murray said he could have told 
him why in a minute, but didn’t think it policy to 
do so. 

Of course some people would growl about any- 
thing anywhere, and some of those who complain 
the most, I am sure have had the least at home. 
One woman said that she thought we would be 
served our meals on a marble slab, and was in- 
dignant because she had to go to the main dining 
room. There is no excuse for such an attitude, ex- 
cept' that of ignorance, but I don’t believe that Dr. 
Leeds has the gift of handling all sorts and con- 
ditions of people. I like him better than most of 
the patients do, and I suppose I’ll keep on liking 
him until he treats me as it seems he does some 
others. 

Owen Bowling is the bright light among the 
men. He strikes me as being rather unusual. Not 
because of his looks, although he is a handsome 
fellow, tall, slender, very fair, with the rosiest 


94 


Who’s Who 


cheeks and bluest eyes I ever saw. Phyllis and 
I have nicknamed him “Baby Doll.^’ He pretends 
not to like it, but he does. He’s a great jollier 
and certainly likes the ladies. I don’t think he has 
had more than ordinary schooling, but he has the 
ability to absorb knowledge, and to make use of 
what he knows to the fullest extent, and he seems 
to have an inborn gift for getting along with people. 
When any one wants some one else to do some- 
thing they don’t want to, they send Owen to do 
the persuading. Everybody on the place likes him, 
patients, employes, and the administration, and 
the men like him as well as the women do. He 
has been Captain of his cottage. Paradise Alley, 
for a long time. In fact, nobody else has ever been 
found who can keep peace with the patients and 
with the administration too, and that reminds me, 
I’ve been delegated to the position of Captain in 
our cottage, and believe me, it is no sinecure. I 
think it is a mistaken policy to have a patient in 
nominal charge of the cottages, although so far 
things here have gone nicely. The girls call me 
^ ‘ Cappy. ’ ’ I hand out the linen, see that the lights 
are out at nine, and everybody in, and that things 
are kept picked up. Also I am supposed to re- 
port any infractions of the rules and that is where 
the rub will come some time. I wouldn’t mind re- 
porting carelessness about sanitary things, or any- 

95 


Saints^ Rest 


thing which seriously disturbed other patients, but 
there are so many things which some of the girls 
do which are infractions, and yet not especially 
serious, and I don^t think it worth while to be 
labeled a tale bearer. If I were a nurse, it would 
be different for then anything of that sort would 
be my business. 

1^11 have to finish this tomorrow. It’s time for 
bed now. 

November 4th. 

We had a thrilling experience last night. Every- 
body had gone to bed and was asleep when Miss 
Dickman, whose bed is next to mine, gave a ter- 
rible scream and said a rat had run across her 
face. We all jumped up. I turned on the lights 
and we chased that poor rat hither and yon. You ’d 
have laughed yourself double if you could have 
seen us. Everybody was in pajamas or big clumsy 
sleeping garments, with hoods, caps and bed socks. 
I tell you we cure chasers look like freaks when 
we are garbed in our night clothes, against the 
chilly blasts that sweep in the open windows of 
our sleeping wards. This afternoon I composed 
a ‘‘poem” about the rat episode. 

Saints’ Eest was quiet, calm, and still. 

All seemed serene and well. 

Till Dickey broke the peaceful calm 
With a most unearthly yell. 

96 


Who’s Who 


Eight heads bobbed up in dire dismay, 

Eight voices screamed, ‘‘0, my!^’ 

When Dicky said, ‘‘Here’s a great big rat, 

0, I’m sure we all shall die.” 

Up in her bed jumped Ferber 
And knocked her watch on the floor. 
Wrapped all her blankets about her 
And wildly screamed for more. 

The frisky rat ran merrily on 
And stopped by Josie’s hat, 

‘ ‘ 0, Captain, dear, ’ ’ she wildly cried, 

“Do come and kill this rat.” 

The Captain leaped from out her bed. 

Took three steps to the mile. 

The way she chased that rat, I vow. 

Would make a T. B. smile. 

She grabbed it once by its two hind feet. 

But it jumped and got away. 

Ban out of the door and disappeared, — 

So ended this mighty fray. 

Silly, I know, but it brought a laugh, and that 
tvas what it was meant to do. Ah, me, there was 
a time when I aspired to be a real poet. Will time, 
I wonder, ever bring the fruition of that early 
dream? I’ve missed the mark so far I almost 
doubt the effort. 0, to be eighteen again, with 
only a future before me. 


97 


Saints^ Rest 


November 6th. 

I felt too blue last night to finish my letter. I 
wanted to cry, but I don’t like to cry before folks, 
and unless I hid in the shower bath or stuck my 
head in my locker, there wasn’t any place I could 
be alone, so I put on my big coat, snuggled Michael 
Angelo into my arms, and sat on the steps. It 
was bright moonlight, and the Man in the Moon 
sent me such jolly smiles, and the stars twinkled 
so persistently, and Michael Angelo purred so con- 
tentedly that I found myself wondering how I 
could be anything but happy. 0, I’ll make up 
yet for all the grubbing years. 

Yours always, 
Eose. 


98 


CHAPTER X 


MICHAEL ANGELO PROVES A POOR 
MESSENGER 

Tamarack, November 10, 1913. 

Dear Darwin: 

Talk about excitement! WeVe been living 
through a melodrama. You remember what I 
wrote you a while ago about Josie and Art? Well, 
they Ve been taking long walks together, and three 
and four times as much exercise as they should. 
A few days ago Josie, the little silly, wrote a note 
to Art, tied it by a string to Michael Angelo’s 
neck and started him in the direction of Paradise 
Alley. He goes there often, so she was sure he’d 
get there. He did, and so did Dr. Leeds, who saw 
the note and investigated. Yesterday he called Jo- 
sie on the carpet and fired her. I was at Sunday 
school when it happened. When I got to the cot- 
tage she flung herself at me, and cried and cried, 
but said she knew she deserved it, and that Dr. 
Leeds had told her he was sending her away partly 
because of the example she set, and partly because 
he would rather give her place to some one who 
wanted to get well more than she did. It seems 


99 


Saints’ Rest 


he knew more about her breaking the rules than 
she thought he did. 

I suppose he was right, but she has no home, and 
I couldn’t help but cry with her. In fact, almost 
every one in the cottage was in tears. 

After supper Art slipped over to the cottage 
and talked to her out by the Big Pine. He declared 
he would go too, and wanted her to leave on the 
midnight train. She came in, half persuaded, and 
while we were convincing her what an indiscreet 
thing that would be. Dr. Leeds was out in search 
of Art. Evidently he surmised what might hap- 
pen. He found him on the path between the two 
cottages, collared him, and took him to the main 
building, shut him up and put a guard over him. 
Early in the morning Art began to fight the guard, 
and then two patients, both hemorrhage cases, 
who were supposed to keep absolutely quiet, de- 
cided to take a hand. They heard the fuss, got into 
the room, and held the guard while Art got away. 
He wandered around the lake a while and then 
started down the track for the next station. Guess 
he didn’t dare get on at the station here. Some 
of the patients were near the track when he went 
by and they said he waved his arm and shouted 
that he would never be captured alive. 

The two men who helped him get away were 
both ‘ ‘ canned, ’ ’ and told to leave on the next train, 


100 


Michael Angelo Proves a Poor Messenger 

which they did, and since it went in the wrong 
direction they got off at the first station, and 
stayed there until they conld get a train out. An 
employe of the sanatorium who was in town that 
afternoon said they both were roaring drunk, and 
spitting all over the streets. Everybody here is 
excited and there is much talk. I don’t say much 
for I don’t know what to think. Of course there 
isn’t any question but that the three men are un- 
desirable citizens, but while their influence here 
is bad I am wondering if they won’t harm more 
people away from here, where they will be abso- 
lutely free from restrictions. 

As for Josie, she will have to go to work at 
something, and she isn’t able. Of course I sup- 
pose Dr. Leeds had considered this, and I’m not 
pretending to sit in judgment, but one can’t help 
but wonder if there isn’t some way that would 
cause less hardship and trouble in the end. 

A few of us get along pretty well, but there is 
much dissatisfaction, and lack of contentment, 
and a sort of fear all the time. It is trying for 
every one. For instance, the day after Josie was 
fired, the doctor sent for Mrs. Ferber to come to 
the office. She is the Jewish woman I wrote about, 
who has a family of grown children. She couldn’t 
think of anything she had done which she shouldn’t, 
but she was so afraid she would get a calling down 


101 


Saints^ Best 


anyway that she cried and refused to go alone, 
and it made us all excited. Finally Miss Daughan 
went with her. All the doctor wanted was to tell 
her that he had had a letter from one of her chil- 
dren asking about her. 

Seems to me there is something wrong when an 
elderly lady of staid and sensible habits is afraid 
of a summons to the office. It doesn’t always take 
a guilty conscience to make people afraid. I 
couldn’t help Josie’s tying that note to Michael 
Angelo, but I am deathly afraid he will be taken 
away from us. He is sitting on my lap now, and 
every once in a while he puts out a paw and taps 
a key on the typewriter. 

It is only eight-thirty, but I am tired, so good 
night and pleasant dreams, my dear. 

Eose. 

Tamarack, November 11, 1913. 

Dear Darwin: 

The program committee was asked today to plan 
something for Thanksgiving. We had a short 
consultation right after dinner. Didn’t plan much, 
but will have a regular meeting tomorrow between 
7 :30 and 8 :30. We rather enjoy these meetings, 
for while we try to plan things that will interest 
everybody and give everybody a good time, we 
have a good time ourselves. We got quite well ac- 


102 


Michael Angelo Proves a Poor Messenger 

quainted working on the Halloween party. The 
three boys give ns the viewpoint of the boys and 
we girls give the viewpoint of the girls on the vari- 
ous affairs of the community. 

May Stewart left for home a few days ago. The 
doctor told her she was not well, but had probably 
received all the good she could from a stay here, 
and if she went home and took good care of her- 
self for three months, possibly she could go back 
to work on half time. She actually felt encour- 
aged, but it seemed sort of a dreary prospect to 
me, and makes me wonder if I am going to get out 
of here in six months. I feel better than I did, 
but am nervous and sometimes my temperature 
won’t go down as it should, and every time there is 
any excitement my pulse runs higher than it did 
when I came. 0, I don’t suppose I should worry 
you with such remarks, but you always ask me to 
tell you just how I am. Won’t I be glad when I 
am well! 

I’m worried about Phyllis. Her voice is getting 
husky and thick. I persuaded her to go to the of- 
fice for throat examination when they were giving 
throat treatment. The doctor said her throat was 
all right, but still I’m worried. I know something 
is wrong. Her voice hasn’t sounded right for over 
a month. Besides, she coughs and raises more 
than when she came, but she hasn’t any tempera- 
ture, so keeps getting more exercise time. 

103 


Saints^ Best 


Such a horrid woman was sent down today to 
take Josie’s place. She talks all the time, and has 
nothing to say, a tiresome combination, especially 
when you can’t get away from it, and some of the 
girls delight in getting her wound up on some sub- 
ject, just to annoy the rest of us. She is very 
curious to know what patients are provided for 
by their counties, and asked me who supported 
me. I told her my backbone, and she said, ‘‘Well, 
now, that’s right nice, but I mean who pays your 
bills!” I told her that the U. S. Government was 
taking a hand in my atfairs but I wasn’t supposed 
to talk about it. She looked puzzled. 

May’s place was taken by Mary Middlestone, 
who seems very intelligent, and who is friendly 
enough to offset a rather abrupt manner. I wasn’t 
going to like her at first, but I guess it was an- 
other case of jumping to conclusions, for we had 
such an interesting conversation today that now 
instead of wondering if I am going to like her, I 
am wondering if she is going to like me. Some 
difference. 

I haven’t had a letter from you for a week. If 
I don’t get one tomorrow I shall start an outra- 
geous flirtation with the Man in the Moon. He’s 
a good friend of mine. Take heed. 

As always, 
Eose. 


104 


CHAPTER XI 


THANKSGIVING FUN 

Tamarack, December 1st. 

My dear: 

I know my letters the last two weeks have been 
short and unsatisfactory, bnt there has been little 
to write about. Even now I^m not sure you will 
especially enjoy hearing about our Thanksgiving, 
but I’ll take a chance on it. I can at least fill up 
space and make you think you are getting a letter. 

We didn’t feel as ambitious about this party as 
we did our Halloween party. Too many people 
overworked on that, and we wanted something 
simpler and easier for us all. Finally we planned 
a book party. We picked out about thirty titles of 
books that could be easily represented. Then each 
member of the committee agreed to interview cer- 
tain people and ask them to represent a certain 
book. It wasn’t very hard to get people to do this, 
especially as we planned most of the costumes. 
Some of the people wanted to work up their own 
representations and of course we were glad enough 
of that. 

We made a list of all the books to be represented 
105 


Saints^ Best 


and mixed the names in with a lot of others, and 
posted the lists in the various buildings. We did 
this because so many of the patients are not es- 
pecially well educated, and we did not want them to 
feel that something had been planned for the few 
instead of the many. For refreshments we had 
cake, fruit, and ice cream, but of course the matron 
and kitchen help got that ready. All we had to do 
was to serve the seventy-five or eighty people 
present. 

The dining room was cleared out as usual, ex- 
cept some chairs, and those who were representing 
some book wandered around and the rest tried to 
guess. Choyce Washington, the lady of color, 
dressed in white, even to a white sunbonnet, and 
powdered her face copiously to personate ^‘The 
Woman in White,’’ but alas for her efforts, every- 
body thought she depicted ‘‘Black Beauty.” Some 
of the selections were “The Doctor,” “The Little 
Minister,” “Freckles,” “The Prospector,” “Un- 
der the Red Robe,” and the “Wandering Jew.” 

Miss Harper, the matron, planned an extra nice 
dinner that day, and the food was extremely well 
cooked. We have a new cook. As a special favor 
the men and women were allowed to eat together, 
but as they were not allowed to choose their part- 
ners, it wasn’t as much of a favor as it might have 
been. Plain white place cards were used, the men’s 


106 


Thanksgiving Fun 


names being put on one side of the tables, and 
women’s on the other, and your partner was the 
one you sat opposite to. Some of the boys tried 
to bribe the waiters to change cards, but the head 
nurse was detailed to watch things, so that didn’t 
work. 

I was lucky. I drew Bert Dalrymple, one of the 
committee, a nice young fellow, intelligent and 
jolly. We had a most entertaining conversation. 
Phyllis had to sit opposite Ikey, an old Jew, quite 
dirty and repulsive, who eats like a threshing ma- 
chine, and always keeps one hand on the milk 
pitcher for fear he won’t get his share, and Bert 
told a number of funny little things about him. He 
has a wife named Rosie (that is, Ikey has), and 
two girls, Sarah and Clara, and one day when he 
was writing to Rosie, one of the boys looked over 
his shoulder, and this is the way he ended his let- 
ter: will now close, with love and kisses, forty 

for Sarah, forty for Clara, and keep the rest for 
yourself.” Goodness! who would ever think of 
kisses in connection with Ikey, but then, I suppose 
there must be all kinds of trimming for all kinds 
of cloth. 

Owen drew Mrs. Ferber, and he has such beau- 
tiful manners and is such a good mixer that she 
had the time of her life, and he enjoyed it, too. He 
is not only nice to everybody, but enjoys it, which 

107 


Saints’ Best 


is more than some of us do. I either like people a 
lot, or feel so indifferent that it is hard to be nice. 
I wish I wasn’t so much that way, for so many 
times I have found that one can often find compan- 
ionship by looking for it. All good things don’t 
appear on the surface. 

Well, some of the people were so disgusted with 
the partners they got that they growled a lot about 
it, and the doctor said he would never try to please 
them that way again. 

It is bitterly cold here now, and the lakes are 
frozen. I have not been out on the big lake yet, but 
there is a little pond up in the woods, which I vis- 
ited today on my morning walk. The ice was not 
very clear, for the pond is shallow and full of 
rushes. They say there are pond lilies there in 
summer time. Eight in the center of the pond is 
a tiny island, dotted with small symmetrical ever- 
greens. I crossed over to the island, and wandered 
around it for a while, and found all sorts of treas- 
ures. Low bushed cranberries grew rather thickly, 
and I gathered a handful of the red berries, and in 
among the frozen moss were many pitcher plants. 
I had never seen them before, and had not sup- 
posed one could find them in the winter time. Here 
they were, no flowers, of course, just the little 
pitchers, as erect as possible and filled with ice. I 
picked a couple and brought them home. The 


108 


Thanksgiving Fun 


ice is melting, and I shall pack the pitchers 
in a little box and send them to yon. I prowled 
around on the island as long as I could. I ^m crazy 
to see this place in the summer time. If I do have 
to stay here that long, I surely shall get some 
books on trees, flowers, and birds, for there must 
be a wealth of material here. 

I hate to get ready for bed tonight. I have been 
so uncomfortable since the cold weather began 
that I can’t sleep well. I have ten blankets over 
me, and three under me, and I wear a winter union 
suit, a flannel gown, thick cap and bed socks, and 
use a hot soapstone, and yet I freeze, and the 
weight of all that stuff tires me out. I should think 
it would be just as cheap for them to buy one wool 
quilt and one or two soft blankets for each patient 
as to have so many of these hard, heavy blankets, 
which have no warmth. I think I shall write to 
Mrs. Sullivan to get a wool quilt for me. I sup- 
pose it will cost five or six dollars, but I just can’t 
stand this lack of sleep and being so cold. Just 
medium cold weather isn ’t so bad, but this is dread- 
ful. I don’t see how the patients who are sick in 
bed and weak, can stand it. It is hard enough for 
us who are able to be up and around and to eat 
three meals a day to help give us energy. 

0, I almost forgot to tell you. Mr. Barr and 
the others in the office sent me a big box of goodies 


109 


Saints^ Rest 


l^hanksgiving. There was a roasted chicken, cake, 
wafers, and rolls. We got permission for a little 
festive time last night, and consumed the goodies 
at one lick. I know that’s slangy. I’ve heard more 
slang here than in all my life before. Well, the 
only thing I didn’t share with the others was the 
box of candy yon sent. Someway, I want every 
bit of that myself. Kose. 

December 2nd. 

Dear Darwin: 

I forgot to mail my letter this morning, so might 
as well write a little more, especially as I’m so up- 
set mentally that I have got to do something. This 
morning when Phyllis and I were out for our walk, 
we remembered that one of the girls was leaving 
for a short visit home, so we hurried down to the 
station to say good-bye. We got there just before 
the train got in, and one of the girls said to me, 
“Gappy, let’s all get on the train and go as far as 
Zero, a little station almost three miles down the 
line, and walk back. ’ ’ 

I asked the girls how much exercise time they 
had, and they all had more than enough to walk 
back, and as there would be plenty of time to take 
our half hour’s rest before dinner, I supposed it 
would be all right, so assented, and we all jumped 


110 


Thanksgiving Fun 


on the train. Jimmie, who was going away on a 
visit, was the only one who had any money, and 
the rest of ns had to borrow from her. We got off 
at Zero, which is nothing but a stop-off, not even 
a station, and walked right home. It never entered 
my head that any one would object, but some one 
who was at the station when we left went right up 
to the doctor ^s office, and told him about it, and 
tonight just before supper he came into the dining 
room, and gave us all a dreadful calling down, 
right before the whole crowd. He didn-t mention 
names, but of course every one knew who had gone. 
He said things had come to a pretty pass when a 
bunch of girls, girls, would jump on a car, and ride 
no one knows how far, and so forth, and so on. 
I was so amazed at this tirade that I could hardly 
believe my ears. Maybe it was a mistake to gb, 
but surely nothing as dreadful as he made out, and 
he might have talked to us by ourselves and asked 
how it happened. 

I went to Dr. Hull and asked her about it, and 
she said he blamed me more than the others be- 
cause I was Captain, and should have kept the 
others from going. I asked her if she thought I 
should go to him, and talk about it, and she said 
not to, because it would make matters worse. He 
had said his say and would not go back on it. You 
don^t know how uncomfortable I feel. Not because 


111 


Saints’ Rest 


I feel to blame for anything, bnt it hurts to be 
‘‘bawled out,^^ as the saying is, when you don’t 
deserve it. 

I’m beginning to understand why so many peo- 
ple feel discontented. It isn’t because of the un- 
avoidable unpleasantness, such as poorly cooked 
food, lack of good service when there is a shortage 
of help, or the inconveniences and necessary re- 
strictions. Most of us would stand those things 
willingly, if we didn’t have to feel afraid all the 
time. This is the first time anything has touched 
me personally, but I’ve seen it in the case of oth- 
ers. I feel like making a face at the doctor, and 
saying “Cross patch, cross patch, sit by the fire 
and spin.” 

He certainly can make people feel hateful. 

Rose. 


112 


CHAPTER XII 


A DISCOVERY 
Tamarack, December 12, 1913. 

Dear Darwin : 

Today I had a rare hour alone in the cottage. 
Everybody else was exercising or visiting some one 
at the main building. Youdl never guess what I 
did. It’s almost too silly to tell. I primped. You 
see quite a while ago I heard Loraine Belmond tell 
May that she really believed I’d be nice looking, 
if I’d only doll up a little. Then she went on to 
enumerate my good points, extra nice complexion 
when I wasn’t too pale, lovely hair if I’d fluff it 
out a little, fairly good figure, nice hands and feet. 
Also said I didn’t have much style, but that was 
probably because of my clothes. 

I had a haunting suspicion that she was right, 
and I resolved then and there to snatch the first 
chance I had to see just how nice I could look if 
I tried real hard. You see I’ve been wearing out 
a lot of old duds here, and they were never extra 
nice anyway, and I’ve worn my hair plainly, be- 
cause it was easier. I didn’t have courage to ex- 
periment with a whole bunch of girls around, so 

113 


Saints’ Rest 


today when I found myself alone, I got busy. 
After a warm sponge bath I took a cold shower, 
and it did beat np a little more color into my face, 
and then I began fussing with my hair. I combed 
it a dozen ways and liked them all. It is quite 
thick now, but too fine and silky to fluff out much, 
but it’s wavy, and after combing it a lot, it stood 
out pretty well, and I made loose puffs over my 
ears, and some big soft ones in the back. I used 
all my hairpins and robbed Phyllis of what I could 
And in her locker. Then I began trying on dresses 
that didn’t belong to me. Never before in my life 
would I have thought of getting into another girl’s 
belongings, but here everybody lends and borrows 
and thinks nothing of it. One of the girls had a 
lovely pink silk dress, cut a little low in the neck 
and with short sleeves. She had it sent up for 
the Christmas party that is to come. It fitted me 
very well, and I looked so different in it from what 
I do in my ordinary attire that I had to smile at 
myself. Funny what a difference clothes make. 
Never in the future will I economize on clothes as 
I have in the past, and I have resolved to buy one 
very nice dress right away. 

When I got through surveying myself, I put 
things away, combed my hair down flat again, and 
was here at the table when the girls began coming 
in. I have been doing some figuring. I shall buy 


114 


A Discovery 


a rose-pink party dress, lovely black hose and the 
nicest slippers I can get, and I shall not tell a soul 
about it beforehand, and I am going to dress up 
for our Christmas party, and surprise a few peo- 
ple. It’s extravagant, I know, but when have ex- 
travagance and I ever kept company before? I 
yield to the temptation to adorn myself. 

December 12th. 

The storm occasioned by the trip to Zero seems 
to have blown over. At least nothing more has 
been said, but I feel uncomfortable every time I 
see the doctor. 

December 15th. 

My new wool quilt came two days ago, and I 
slept like a top under it. I put four blankets un- 
der me, and fixed one crossways so that the ends 
can be folded up over the sides after the bed is 
made. This keeps out the wind. With the wool 
quilt I need only three blankets over me instead of 
ten, and it is a big relief. Wish I could get one for 
every patient here. 

December 18th. 

Dearest : 

If I could put into my Christmas package all my 
loving wishes, and all my desire to see you, it would 
weigh so heavy, I couldn’t afford to pay postage. 
The little gift I am sending you I hope we can 


115 


Saints^ Rest 


read together some day, and langh and cry over. 
IVe read more since I have been here than for 
several years, and have been renewing old ac- 
quaintances and making new ones. I have not been 
able to get all the books you speak about reading, 
but I have read a few, and perhaps by the time we 
can read together I will not be so far behind you. 
Perhaps there may even be a few things I will be 
ahead in. I have been reading all I can find on 
tuberculosis, which isn’t much, for the doctor 
doesn’t like to recommend books for us to read. 
He thinks we get too many wrong impressions, but 
Mr. Dunning gave me some pamphlets on artificial 
pneumothorax, which I have been reading. You 
know I told you I wanted to find out if there was 
such a thing as a collapsed lung, as they said when 
I first came, the time little Nat died. What he had 
was a spontaneous pneumothorax, which means 
that an ulceration of a bronchus had eaten through 
into the pleural cavity, allowing air to enter. He 
was an advanced case, and the shock was too much 
for him. In certain cases some physicians advo- 
cate an induced or artificial pneumothorax for the 
purpose of obliterating cavities, and pushing out 
the pus which helps to poison the system, thereby 
keeping the patient from improving. In other 
words, the idea is to put the lung at rest so that 
it will heal up faster, even though it is put out of 

116 


A Discovery 


use. This of course puts all the burden on the 
other lung, and it seems there is much diversity of 
opinion as to the final results. I suppose the mat- 
ter will be worked out more fully after a while. 
At present this method of treatment is very much 
an open question. 

My goodness, what a subject for a Christmas 
letter ! You will think I am crazy. 

My real Christmas letter will be written after 
Christmas. We^re planning a jollification and I 
am as busy as a bee, getting ready. Very few of 
the patients are allowed to go home at holiday 
time. The doctor holds that the excessive merri- 
ment common to the season, coupled with the jour- 
ney is apt to do much harm. Some of the girls 
cried because they couldn’t go, but I think they 
will all brace up. I don’t believe I will be as lonely 
as I would be in the city. I don ’t mind being here 
at all, but how I wish you could be here too. 

Good night, my dear. 

Eose. 


117 


CHAPTER XIII 


CHRISTMAS IN A SANATORIUM 

Tamarack, December 26, 1913. 

Dear Darwin: 

What shall I write about! The weather first, 
because we had a glorious snowfall the day before 
Christmas, and “Every pine and fir and hemlock 
wore ermine too dear for an earl,’’ and yesterday, 
Christmas morning, the sun shone cold and bright, 
and a nippy little breeze shook great masses of 
snow down on us from the heavily weighted 
branches. 

Christmas in a sanatorium! How dreary that 
must sound, and dreary enough it was, to a few 
hapless ones, weak from wracking coughs and con- 
stant fever, and shut away from most of the mirth 
and joyousness, but to the rank and file of us cure 
chasers it wasn’t half bad. Perhaps we all dreaded 
it a little, and so made an extra effort either to 
capture the Christmas spirit, or else make a good 
bluff at it. 

The big party was on Christmas night, but 
Christmas eve each cottage had a tiny celebration 
of its own. The committee was so busy with the 


118 


Christmas in a Sanatorium 


big tree and getting the Main Bnilding decorated 
that the other girls looked after the cottage deco- 
rations, and a wonderful effect they wrought, with 
hemlock boughs and cedar branches, and one tiny 
tree adorned with sparkling things. Each girl in 
Saints’ Eest had purchased or made a tiny Christ- 
mas gift for some one (nothing over five cents on 
pain of death) and the packages were tied up and 
labeled promiscuously, one for each girl. Then a 
good many of the girls fixed up joke packages and 
addressed them to some one. 

As soon as supper was over, we hurried back to 
the cottage and laid aside our usual habiliments, 
and attired ourselves in short skirts or dresses 
borrowed from the younger girls, and with our 
hair in childish braids or curls we gathered around 
the Christmas tree, and sang and made little 
speeches, and opened our packages, and the mirth 
and laughter that lay hidden in us all bubbled up 
and spilled over. Who wouldn’t laugh, when the 
fastidious Loraine, a connoisseur in fine soap, 
opened a dainty package, perfumed and berib- 
boned, and found a bar of laundry soap! 

So Christmas eve passed merrily enough. 
Christmas day itself was not so pleasant, at least 
to me, and to explain why, I will have to go back 
a little. Some ten days before Christmas, those 
of us on the committee consulted with Dr. Leeds 


119 


Saints^ Best 


about the amusement for that day and evening, 
and told him that a number of patients had asked 
us to get permission for a dance Christmas night. 
He was not in sympathy with the idea, because 
while there were some it would not hurt, there 
were others whom it would and he had found that 
discrimination always made trouble. He asked us 
if we would like to dance, too, and we all answered 
yes. He asked how much exercise time we had 
and then said that if dancing would not hurt the 
rest any more than it would us he would have no 
objection, but it would, and he hoped we would 
plan something else. We told him that while we 
would enjoy a dance ourselves we were willing to 
have some other kind of an entertainment, and the 
meeting adjourned with that understanding. 

We began planning a short musical program, 
but most of the people we asked to take part said 
that if they did that, they thought we should try 
to please them by having a dance. When we told 
them that the doctor was not in favor of it, they 
told us that he had told some of them that the 
matter rested entirely with the committee. It is 
true that he did leave the matter with us, but he 
had showed so plainly that he didn’t want us to 
have the dance that we gave it up, but we couldn’t 
get the rest of the patients to believe us, and they 
badgered us and made things so horrid that we fi- 


120 


Christmas in a Sanatorium 


nally went to the doctor the second time and asked 
again. He was not a bit pleased, but said that 
those who wished to dance could send in their 
names and he would consult their records and 
make a list of those who could take part. I thought 
we had made it clear to him that we were making 
the request simply because of the pressure that 
was brought to bear on us, but it later transpired 
that he either didn’t understand it that way, or 
chose to ignore that part of it. 

Unfortunately, Phyllis and I decided that since 
there was to be a dance, and he had already virtu- 
ally given us permission, we might as well send in 
our names, which we did, and then unfortunately, 
one by one, the girls who had had the most to say 
and had been the most unpleasant backed out. One 
said that she hadn’t thought about its being Christ- 
mas, and she didn’t believe it was right to dance on 
Christmas night; another said that she had been 
spitting blood and guessed she had better not ask, 
and another said that since her sister had recently 
died, maybe it would not look right for her to 
dance, and so forth and so on, until it actually 
transpired that Phyllis, a Miss Hanson, and my- 
self were the only three girls who sent in their 
names, and Miss Hanson said that she sent in hers 
just to see if the doctor would tell her something 
about her condition, since she would know better 
121 


Saints’ Best 


than to dance, even if he gave her permission, as 
she was running a temperature over 101, coughing 
and expectorating profusely. I knew about the 
temperature because her bed is across from mine, 
and she always tells me how high it is, and talks 
about how badly she feels. I also knew that she 
was a far advanced and unfavorable case because 
I had helped out in the office one day, and had seen 
her record, and Dr. Hull had told me that she was 
kept at the cottage simply because there was no 
other place for her. 

Christmas morning came, and while we were 
finishing up the decorations in the dining room, I 
'asked Murray to get the list from the doctor so 
that we would know what to plan on. He came 
back and reported that only three girls had en- 
rolled, and that the doctor had said that both Phyl- 
lis and Miss Hanson could dance, but not I, and 
since he could not allow a dance with only two girls 
he would have to forbid it entirely. 

I didn^t mind not being allowed to dance, but I 
did mind being treated that way, for of course it 
was very plain that his discrimination was not 
made on the basis of what would be harmful. He 
either took the attitude that because I was chair- 
man of the committee I should have refused to 
heed the wishes of the others, or else that because 
so few had asked when it came to a showdown, that 


122 


Christmas in a Sanatorium 


I had exaggerated my statements about the wishes 
of the majority. For a little while I could have 
eaten alive those girls who had hounded me into 
going to him the second time about the dance, and 
then backed out, but I was angrier still at him for 
not believing me, and for the childish way he was 
acting. Miss Hanson had no exercise, had had a 
temperature of over 101 for several days, was a 
far advanced and unfavorable case, and I had all 
morning’s exercise, two hours in the afternoon, 
and was classified as incipient and favorable, and 
of course every one was surprised to learn that 
Miss Hanson had been granted permission but not 
I, and they felt as I did, that it was not a question 
of suitability but one of preference. 0, 1 was mad, 
not angry, that is too nice a word, just plain mad. 
If it had not been for the sympathy of those around 
me, it would have spoiled my day. We were deco- 
rating the big tree when Murray told us, and for 
the life of me I couldn’t help but cry, not because 
I had wanted to dance so badly, but because of 
the lack of consideration the doctor was showing 
in the face of all the work I had done since coming, 
on the committees, when I might have been read- 
ing, crocheting, or resting. When the tears got be- 
yond me I went behind the Christmas tree, and 
Owen, who is a born peacemaker, faithfully fol- 
lowed and tried to assuage my wounded spirit. 


123 


Saints^ Rest 


‘‘Now, Miss Marohn, please get that look out of 
your face, dry those tears and look like yourself 
again. It’s rotten, I know, but we all get it once 
in a while. ’ ’ 

Between his sympathy and Murray’s cheerful 
admonition to show that I didn’t care a bit (he 
really said danrn), and my own knowledge of a 
certain rose-pink dress which I had been hoarding 
to make myself resplendent with that evening, 
I rallied enough to put on a more or less cheerful 
front during the rest of the day. 

That evening I sort of dreaded getting ready in 
the midst of all the bunch in our cottage, but I 
found that all the rest of the girls were primping 
to such an extent that my efforts didn’t appear 
conspicuous. After a most thorough grooming of 
my person I fluffed up my hair, and pinned it in 
loose, soft puffs, and when I donned the lovely 
rose-pink dress Avith its soft folds I looked nearer 
twenty than twenty-six, and the girls said such 
lovely things about how I looked that I felt well re- 
paid. All the girls looked extra nice, but Phyllis 
was prettiest of all, with her lovely golden hair, and 
pink cheeks. She is twenty, and looks about six- 
teen. She is not feeling well, though, and her 
throat is getting huskier and huskier, and she ex- 
pectorates so much more than she did when she 
came that I wonder her exercise time is not cut 


124 


Christmas in a Sanatorium 

down instead of being increased. The doctor tells 
her that she has considerable bronchitis, and that 
that is what makes her cough so much. 

Well, we all trooped up to the main building. I 
wish you could have seen the dining room, which 
was cleared for the occasion. The cedar wreaths 
and hemlock festoons which we had made helped to 
conceal the bare, ugly walls, and Christmas bells 
and bunches of holly hung from the chandeliers, 
and the tallest, loveliest Christmas tree I have ever 
seen stood on the spot of honor, and blazed with 
twinkling lights and glittering ornaments. 

A short program, and simple, homely games 
filled in the evening. We had made over two hun- 
dred candy and nut bags, and these were brought 
in by Walter Strensloski in the guise of Santa 
Claus. All in all, it was a fairly pleasant evening, 
although Phyllis and I and some others on the 
committee were too tired to enjoy it as much as we 
might have. I was glad when the crowd dispersed. 
On our way home Phyllis and I vowed by the light 
of the silvery moon that we had done our last work 
on entertainment committees. I could stand it if 
it were not for the constant disturbance of the 
mental atmosphere, and the always present fear 
that something unpleasant was going to happen. 
Some of this I imagine would be present under any 
management, but much of it could be avoided. 


125 


Saints’ Best 


Phyllis, who has had a number of set-tos with 
the doctor, has determined to go home the next 
time anything disturbing occurs. If I had a home 
where conditions could be as they can be in her 
case, I’d go too, for all these misunderstandings 
are hurting me. 

There, I’ve written pages and never mentioned 
your package which came this morning. It was the 
last package that came for me, the last, the best 
and the dearest. Your selection of books touched 
the psychologic moment all right. I need their 
stimulation. I don’t begin to feel as cheerful and 
contented as I did two months ago, but no doubt 
the clouds will pass, and I’ll be myself again. 

Kose. 


126 


CHAPTER XIV 


TROUBLE 

Tamarack, J anuary 3, 1914. 

My dear : 

Do your parishioners come to you with all their 
troubles? If so, I should think you’d return my 
letters unread, or at least not say that you find 
them refreshing. Lately I seem always to have 
something to growl about, and while I’m not to 
blame for that, I suppose I might refrain from 
writing about it, but you know a trouble shared 
is a trouble halved. A terribly selfish doctrine, 
of course. 

Phyllis has gone home, went yesterday morning, 
and such a time as we had before she left! She 
and I both had been unusually busy before Christ- 
mas, and had let a few unnecessary things pile up 
on our bedside tables, in the ward, and after 
Christmas we were tired and the weather was so 
cold that it was all we could do to make our beds, 
let alone straightening up our tables. 

Three or four days after Christmas a nurse who 
was inspecting our ward said that the head nurse 
had told her to see that no extra things should be 


127 


Saints^ Best 


left on the tables. Phyllis and I were making our 
beds at one end of the ward, and she was at the 
other, and didn’t address anybody in particular, 
simply made the remark in general. I turned to 
Phyllis and said that we did not have time to do 
so before taking our exercise, but had better do it 
as soon as we could get ready, and I added further 
that it was a pity we could not use our tables for 
anything we wanted to. The nurse, a snippy young 
article, very proud of the newly acquired dignity 
of her cap, overheard the remarks, and since she 
had a grudge against Phyllis because once or 
twice Phyllis had laughed when the dignity had 
been rather apparent, she reported to Dr. Leeds 
that Miss Channing had been impudent to her, and 
attributed to Phyllis the remarks I had made. 

Phyllis was called on the carpet, and Dr. Leeds 
cleared his throat impressively: ‘‘Miss Channing, 
one of my nurses tells me that you have been im- 
pertinent to her, which is something I can not tol- 
erate. ’ ’ 

Phyllis, who had listened in surprise, declared 
that she had said nothing which could be under- 
stood that way, and asked the doctor to explain. 

When he told her she asserted that she had said 
nothing of the kind, whereupon the doctor cleared 
his throat again, and said icily, ‘ ‘ I always take the 
word of my nurses in preference to that of my 
128 


Trouble 


patients, ’ ’ and when Phyllis remarked that in this 
instance he might better change his custom, he 
flew into a rage, called her a liar, and aired out all 
the trifling misdemeanors that had occurred since 
she came. When he finished his tirade, Phyllis, 
who is a little cyclone when she gets started, told 
him that possibly she had said or done some of the 
things he mentioned, and while they might have 
been foolish or careless, they certainly were not 
criminal, and she didn’t propose to be treated like 
a convict, and if all the bad things she had ever 
said or done were put together they couldn’t begin 
to do the harm that some of his injustices had done 
to people, and that she would leave the institution 
at once. 

She flamed out of the room and came down to 
the cottage, where she told me about the affair, 
and when I reminded her that I had made the re- 
marks which the nurse overheard, she said that 
they must have gone in one ear and out of the 
other because she could not even recall hearing 
them. Of course I went right up to the main build- 
ing, and as the doctor was busy then I told the head 
nurse that I had made the remarks which Phyllis 
was being held guilty of, and she promised to tell 
the doctor. You may be sure I went around with 
my heart in my mouth the rest of the day, and that 
evening the doctor sent for me to come to the of- 


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fice, and he addressed me precisely as he had 
Phyllis. I told him I presumed he referred to cer- 
tain remarks which the nurse had supposed were 
addressed to her, but which I had made to Miss 
Channing, and that I was sorry the nurse had taken 
them as meant for herself. Then the doctor thun- 
dered: ‘‘Tell me why you said, ‘It is a pity we 
canT use our tables for anything we want toT I 
told him because I thought it was a pity ; that the 
articles in question, while not looking especially 
tidy, were doing no harm, and that if it was a con- 
venience for us to have them there for a time I 
could not see why we shouldnT, but that perhaps 
I would not have spoken as I did if I had not been 
unusually tired and nervous. “That is no ex- 
cuse,’^ he snapped, “such remarks are a direct re- 
flection on my administration, and should never be 
made.’’ He then proceeded to talk to me as he had 
to Phyllis, and dilated on everything he could think 
of. He spoke about the time we girls had gone to 
Zero, and the time some of the younger girls in 
the cottage dressed up like boys, which I had not 
told him about, since it was none of my business, 
but which Choyce Washington had reported to him, 
because she was mad at the girls, and finally he 
made a remark which made me as raging angry as 
Phyllis had been. He said the night nurse had re- 
ported that instead of being in bed one night when 


130 


Trouble 


she made her rounds just after nine I was not only 
up but out of the cottage. I was so astonished that 
I blurted out, “That isnT true, whoever said that 
is a liar. ’ ^ 

His face went white and he said, “I would not 
have spoken without sufficient evidence. I always 
take the word of my nurses in preference to that of 
my patients. Your bed was empty and you were 
not in either of the dressing rooms. Suddenly I 
understood. Miss Hickman had left for home and 
1 had moved my bed from its usual place near the 
door to her place at the farther end of the ward, on 
account of the beautiful view from that end, and 
had moved her empty bed into my place. All the 
girls knew of the change, but I had not thought of 
mentioning it to any of the nurses, and since the 
orderly had not had time to take the bedding away, 
it looked as though the bed were occupied. The 
night nurse, instead of walking clear down the 
ward when she makes rounds, simply opens the 
door, holds up the lantern, and glances dovm the 
ward and it is absolutely impossible to see the 
beds at the farther end by that faint light. Of 
course, since the empty bed was next the door and 
since I had been occupying that place, she jumped 
to the conclusion that I was out. If she had inves- 
tigated as she should, she would have found me 
tucked up in my little bed. I was awake when she 


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Saints^ Best 


opened the door, but never dreamed of her thinking 
I was gone. She must have known there was one 
empty bed in the cottage, for she knew Miss Dick- 
man had gone. As soon as I realized how the mis- 
understanding had occurred, I explained it to the 
doctor, and because I was angry I told him that if 
some of his nurses were half as zealous in finding 
out the truth as they were about spreading false 
tales, such mistakes wouldn’t occur. He was ter- 
ribly angry. I suppose it hurt dreadfully to have 
been in the wrong twice, and be found out, and he 
rose, made a bow, and said “You may go now.” 
Not a word about being sorry he had criticized 
without knowing the truth, or that he was sorry a 
mistake had been made. 

There are two or three girls, in the other cot- 
tage, who get up after nine once in a while and meet 
some of the boys outside, which naturally is very 
much against the rules, but I have not been out, 
either before or after nine. All the talking I do 
is done at the main building. Sometimes when 
we have been working on things for our entertain- 
ments, at the doctor’s request, in the main build- 
ing, we have all walked home together, which took 
about three minutes. The trouble with Dr. Leeds 
is that he always looks for the worst. Of course 
in some instances he has reason to, for there a 
good many who take advantage of what privileges 

132 


Trouble 


are allowed, and who are not above protecting 
themselves by a lie, but he should not take such 
things for granted, any more than his patients 
should believe that he is dishonest and unscrupu- 
lous because there are doctors who are. 

I left the office and met Dr. Hull in the hall, and 
she saw from my face that something had hap- 
pened, and drew me into her office, where I told her 
about the matter and about all the other things 
that have been unpleasant, these last two months. 
She didn’t say much, of course. I didn’t expect 
her to, but she gave me her shoulder to cry on, and 
I felt better. 

Well, the patients are not the only ones who 
don’t always get along with the administration. 
The doctor and the steward don’t get along very 
well. Recently they had an altercation which was 
overheard by one of the patients. The doctor told 
the steward that he could consider himself dis- 
charged. 

The steward, a very bland, harmless looking in- 
dividual, albeit a portly one, made answer : ^ ^ Very 
well. Dr. Leeds, that is your privilege, but before I 
leave I shall take you out in the yard and give my- 
self the privilege of pounding hell out of you.” 

The steward is still here, and hell is still bot- 
tled up. 


133 


Saints^ Best 


January 4, 1914. 

I’m glad I didn’t send this yesterday, for this 
morning Dr. Hull told me that Dr. Leeds had an 
appointment under the United States Public 
Health Service to investigate and study the tuber- 
culosis problem as it is handled in Germany, and 
will leave very soon to take up his new duties. 
She has known about the coming change for some 
time, but it is only now made public. I’m not 
saying much, for while I’d be willing to gamble on 
the change, yet things could be worse, much as 
some people would hate to admit. 

I don’t know whether the change was voluntary 
or not on the part of Dr. Leeds. His new position 
is a very good one, and I should think more desir- 
able than this, but at any rate, I am sorry for him. 
He is such a brilliant man that he should make his 
mark. Perhaps he will in his new position. He 
certainly has not done so here. I wonder if he re- 
alizes his unfitness for the place here. I don’t 
believe he does. He surely does not see that the 
bridge he has not crossed is spanned by the love of 
humanity for humanity’s sake. 

Eose. 


134 


CHAPTER XV 


SLEEPING BEAUTIES 

A sanatorium at best furnishes a hot bed for idle 
talk, and the impending departure of Dr. Leeds, 
with the consequent expectation of a new superin- 
tendent, made foundation for an unlimited amount 
of comment and conjecture. For a time the men 
forsook their beloved card games, and the women 
their eternal crocheting, and busy tongues buzzed 
until Rose privately declared to Dr. Hull that 
everybody deserved to be stung. 

canT say that I feel so terribly excited about 
the change. Of course I ’m hoping it will be for the 
better, and I really believe it will be, but since 
there is to be the change, what is the use of digging 
up ancient history, culling over modern, or fore- 
casting the future, thereby starting arguments and 
wearing out your perfectly good tongue. When 
IVe told a thing once or twice I’m ready to stop, 
and when I’ve heard a thing once or twice I’m 
ready for the other fellow to stop, too, especially 
when it is something that’s past and done for. I’ve 
no call to love His Royal Highness, and I’m ready 
to do homage to the new one, as long as he deserves 


135 


Saints^ Best 


it, but 0, me, I^n so tired of the ceaseless clatter, 
I could run and hide.’’ 

‘‘I’ve often wondered,” answered Dr. Hull, “if 
something couldn ’t be done to curb the tendency to 
gossip unduly which is usually so prevalent in a 
place like this, even under a more acceptable reign. 
Idle people are bound to talk, and cards and cro- 
cheting and exercise don’t take up all the time.” 

“I wouldn’t know just what to suggest for the 
winter,” interposed Rose eagerly, “but in the sum- 
mer there could be Fauna and Flora societies, and 
simple outdoor games like croquet, and flower gar- 
dens, and those who didn’t like one thing could 
take part in another, and those who were too ig- 
norant or grouchy to care for anything could go 
off by themselves and grouch all they pleased. We 
could have lovely times if the doctor didn’t always 
get mad about something. ’ ’ 

Dr. Hull looked serious. “If you’ll take my ad- 
vice, Rose, you will stick pretty close to your bed 
for a while. You’re too ambitious, and too excit- 
able, and these last two months have been hard on 
you. I couldn’t say this before, though I’ve 
wanted to. First thing you know you’ll have been 
here six months, and not be ready to go home. If 
you were not so sensible, I wouldn’t speak so 
plainly, but I know you are the kind that needs 
straight facts, and are steady enough to go by 
136 


Sleeping Beauties 


them. I cut down your exercise time this morning, 
and I want you to spend all your extra time rest- 
ing, so that we can get this unsteady pulse and 
erratic temperature where they belong.’’ 

Eose’s face clouded a trifle. She had suspected 
she was not doing so well as she had at first, but 
it hurt to be assured of the fact. From where she 
sat, in the assistant doctor’s office, she looked out 
across the wide expanse of lake that showed a 
smooth unbroken cover of snow. 

‘‘I’ll be glad to rest more,” she said, “but sim- 
ply lying in bed won’t rest a person unless the 
mind is at ease, and you know how things have 
been, most of the time, not just with me, but with 
almost everybody. I’ve fared better than some 
because I was useful. Somebody always upset 
mentally, and such a hubbub of confusion and dis- 
satisfaction so much of the time. I don’t mean we 
patients are always right. I know we make mis- 
takes, and are unreasonable at times, but you know 
how Dr. Leeds is, losing his temper, and not look- 
ing on any side but his own.” 

“I’ve worked with him three years,” commented 
Dr. Hull dryly, “I rather think I get your view- 
point.” 

A sharp whistle broke in on the conversation, 
and both women moved to the window from which 
in the distance they discerned puffs of smoke that 

137 


Saints’ Best 


told them No. 88 was in. At sound of the first whis- 
tle, a dozen or so men, returning from their walk, 
stopped in the road that passed by the window, and 
when the second whistle blew, announcing that 
No. 88 was on her way, up went their hats, and out 
from their throats rang the cry: ‘‘The King is 
dead. Long live the King.’’ 

Dr. Hull turned hastily from the window to hide 
her mirth. 

“Oh!” gasped Kose, “that was impudent, but 
wasn’t it funny! When will the new King 
arrive?” 

“Late tonight. The steward will go to the sta- 
tion with the driver and see that he gets settled, 
and tomorrow I’ll do the honors.” 

“Have you ever met him?” 

“Once, two years ago, when I visited the sana- 
torium he was in charge of then. It wasn’t so 
large as this, but better equipped in some ways. 
I’m thinking he’ll find it hard here until he has 
time to get a good many things changed, and of 
course things that need legal sanction first, take 
time, but unless I miss my guess there will be 
marked changes of a minor nature in many ways 
before long.” 

Here the conversation was interrupted and Rose 
joined the throng in the reception room, waiting 
the last signal for supper. She did not catch a 


138 


Sleeping Beauties 


glimpse of Dr. Murdock until late next morning 
when he was observed making his way with Dr. 
Hull on morning rounds. Muffled as he was in a 
big fur coat and fur cap, not much could be seen 
of his personal appearance. As they neared the 
cottage, every eye in the west wing was upon them, 
and Eose remarked, wonder if he doesn’t hate 
to be stared at so much. Let’s pretend to be asleep 
if he comes in the ward.” 

No such resolution was taken in the east ward, 
and the new superintendent, despite the nippy at- 
mosphere and the amount of work awaiting him, 
took time to be introduced to each individual, and 
to pass the time of day. A few minutes were spent 
in the dressing room, where a few girls were busy 
crocheting or reading. Then they entered the west 
wing, where every hand was peacefully folded, and 
every eye religiously shut. In silence the two doc- 
tors traversed the length of the ward. 

‘‘Bless me,” said the doctor, as they turned 
back. “What is this, a whole ward full of sleep- 
ing beauties 1 ’ ’ 

As the door closed quiet giggles and laughter is- 
sued from the lips of the sleeping beauties, but 
when they gathered in the dressing room, and 
learned that they had missed a personal introduc- 
tion, they bitterly repented their conspiracy of 
silence. 


139 


Saints^ Best 


Swiftly, but unobtrusively, Dr. Murdock as- 
sumed the duties of his position. Familiar with 
the work of an institution, he found it fairly easy 
to grasp the general routine, and Dr. Hull was an 
excellent assistant with details at her finger tips. 
It was a hobby of the new doctor that a successful 
administration from any point of view, resolved 
itself into an administration which had both men- 
tal and physical welfare of the patients at heart, 
and he set himself diligently about to make himself 
a friend as well as a physician; and partly be- 
cause he had himself once been a patient, partly 
because his nature was full of the milk of human 
kindness, partly because he had an unusual sense 
of fair play and love of harmony, he always had 
time to hear the other person’s side of any subject 
whatever, and in an unbelievably short time he 
endeared himself to both patients and employes. 
He made no radical changes at first, but he gave 
heed to trifles that seem so little in one sense, but 
that make for peace or annoyance, and the reign 
of fear and distrust was replaced by one of confi- 
dence. No one was afraid to talk to him, to ques- 
tion why or wherefore, and even when his knowl- 
edge of what was right, and his directions clashed 
with ignorance, prejudice or unreasonableness, he 
had the happy faculty of not engendering anger or 


140 


Sleeping Beauties 


dislike, except in rare instances, and when he saw 
that patience and forbearance had lost their virtue, 
his words of dismissal came sternly but without 
malice. 


141 


CHAPTER XVI 


JUST FUN 

Tamarack, February 8, 1914. 

Dear Darwin: 

Were you ever near a beehive, or a Ladies^ Aid? 
Then you know what this place is like. Before the 
new superintendent came, everybody talked about 
everything that had ever happened under Dr. 
Leeds’ administration, conjectured about the 
change to be, and after Dr. Murdock was actually 
here, the buzzing went right on. Believe me, he’s 
been dissected and analyzed from the top of his 
head with its slightly gray hair to the bottom of his 
russet shoes, with their rubber heels. He ’s smooth 
faced, and gentle voiced, and he has the most char- 
acteristic smile I ever saw. His whole bearing ra- 
diates patience and sympathy. Really, Darwin, I 
never saw the like. The man always has time to 
talk to everybody. He doesn’t seem to care 
whether he eats or not. He lets people impose on 
him a lot, but they trust him, and like him. He’s 
not slack. He’s really very strict about all impor- 
tant things, but he’s so pleasant that one doesn’t 
mind having a request refused, and when he repri- 
mands, they say he does it in such a way that they 


142 


Just Fun 


feel most awfully ashamed, and he doesn^t act as 
if he had it in for them afterward. He doesn’t 
seem to think that because a person makes a mis- 
take once, he is an entire fool, and he gives credit 
for what sense people do have, and pities instead 
of censures for what they don’t have. He seems to 
see the best in every one, and has so many pleasant 
things to say. For instance, yesterday I took Dr. 
Hull half a dozen roses from the bunch that Mr. 
Barr and the office force sent me. My cheeks are 
quite pink most of the time now, and when I went 
into her office, he was there, and said smilingly, 
‘‘Roses in the hand, and roses on the cheeks.” 

He doesn’t set himself up like an autocrat, and 
he realizes that it is much easier to follow instruc- 
tions when you see a reason for them, and he is al- 
ways ready to explain, and the more ignorant the 
person, the more patient and forbearing he is. I 
don’t suppose he always feels that way. No doubt 
he gets mad as a hornet at some of the senseless 
things that are said and done, but he keeps it 
pretty well to himself. Murray has talked with 
him quite a bit, and he thinks he is a wonder, says 
he seems to have such a conception of getting the 
relation between the abstract ideal and the con- 
crete reality. Now that is such a nice sounding 
phrase that I’m going to stop right here. 

Rose. 


143 


Saints^ Best 


P. S. This isn’t much of a letter. In fact, I’m 
afraid most of my letters are not, but I love you so 
much that I want you to experience all these things 
with me, just as I want you to write me about what 
you do, how you live, the people you meet, and the 
work you do. My letters are nothing to what I’ll 
say when I can talk instead of write. You won’t 
know me, but I hope you’ll love me just the same. 

Eose. 

Tamarack, February 16, 1914. 

My dear : 

Two funny things happened this morning. I’m 
still smiling about them. 

Funny thing No. 1: Little Jimmie, who went 
home for a visit the time we girls went as far as 
Zero, had to stay home all this time because her 
sister was very ill, but she returned late last night. 
Of course she had not seen the new superintendent, 
and when she and I happened to be alone in the 
dressing room, he made his rounds. We didn’t 
see him coming, and didn’t hear him rap. He 
thought there was no one in, and walked right into 
our dressing room, where he found Jimmie sitting 
on the floor trimming her toenails, and me wash- 
ing my hair. 

He was taken aback for a moment, and stam- 
mered, ‘‘Oh, how are you this morning?” 

144 


Just Fun 


“I^m all right,” said the irrepressible Jimmie, 
“but who are yon?” 

“Young lady,” he said, and smiled his charac- 
teristic smile, “I^m' the man that puts a quietus on 
saucy little girls. Get right up from that cold floor 
and sit on a chair.” 

By that time I had the soap and water brushed 
out of my eyes, and introduced Jimmie to the doc- 
tor. She gasped a little, but made a dainty curtsy, 
the scissors in one hand and a piece of toenail in 
the other. Why is it that doctors almost always 
make rounds when we are looking our very worst, 
and almost never when we are dolled up a little? 
Are you ministers like that? Do you make your 
calls in the morning when the lady of the house has 
her hands in the dough, or is blacking the stove? 
If you do, Ifll break you of it. I know how it feels. 

Funny thing No. 2: This afternoon I cleaned 
out my locker. It was so full that when I opened 
the door a dozen things, including a jar of cold 
cream, fell out and hit me on the head. They hurt, 
and I was so disgusted that I sat upon the floor and 
wept. The girls tried to cheer me by composing 
headlines in case the blow should result in my 
death, and finally under the influence of such cap- 
tions as “Cold Cream Jar Kills Consumptive,” 
and “Captain Marohn Meets Death in Perform- 
ance of Duty,” I giggled in spite of myself, but 


145 


Saints^ Best 


let me tell you, Darwin Burney, when we are mar- 
ried I want a house that is one-half closet space. 
Living in a locker doesnH appeal to me. If only 
we could have one-half or even one-third of a 
dresser it wouldn^t he so bad. Guess 111 ask the 
doctor to estimate for some dressers so we can 
have more room for our things. Being a married 
man he ought to realize how very necessary it is 
to a woman ’s peace of mind to have plenty of room 
for her clothes, cold cream, and all such impor- 
tant and unimportant things. 

I do believe IVe not written you a word about 
Mrs. Doctor. She has been here only two weeks, 
but we are ready to rave over her just like the doc- 
tor. Do you get my meaning ? If not, take it either 
way. It^s all right. 

They are not to live in the cottage until spring, 
when it can be fixed up a little, so they have rooms 
in the main building. She is just as friendly and 
sociable as the doctor. She doesnl seem a bit 
afraid of us. She evidently knows enough to know 
that the only dangerous consumptive is the un- 
known or careless one. She joins us quite often in 
our card games, is a good musician and plays quite 
a bit, talks over crochet patterns and crochets with 
us, and is ready to discuss any subject we get 
started on. She is fond of walking and several 
times has gone with me on my exercise. I’m get- 


146 


Just Fun 


ting more rest than I did, though, and getting more 
good out of what rest I take, for everything is 
pleasant and peaceful. There hasn’t a soul in our 
cottage had hysterics since the new doctor came. 
I’m eating, sleeping, and resting as if I hadn’t 
another interest in the world. Maybe I’ll get out 
of here in another month. 

Eose. 


147 


CHAPTEE XVII 


A VISIT TO THE CITY 

Tamarack, Marcli 1, 1914. 

Dear Darwin: 

So you’re tired of getting post cards in place of 
letters, and consider them miserable imitations. 
Don’t blame you, but you see it was post cards or 
nothing. After I wrote my last letter, I took it 
into my head to walk down to the lake via the steep 
hill, by the most direct route, which meant straight 
down. It was such fun that I came back the same 
way, but found the fun a minus quantity. It’s a 
steep path, rocky and rough, like the one you’ve 
heard about, that is ‘‘all long, no wide, uphill and 
stony as the devil.” That’s a quotation, mind you, 
Mr. Minister. 

There was still enough snow to hide some of the 
stones, and I fell a dozen times or so. I didn’t 
mind the bruises so much, but I’ve not done any- 
thing strenuous for so long that I lost my breath, 
and hurt my chest a little. I was all in when I 
reached the cottage, and all at once felt choky and 
spit up a mouthful of blood, so I went to bed, and 
wasn’t allowed to be up for a week and received a 
nice talking to from both doctors. 


148 


A Visit to the City 


I feel all right now, but when I talked to Dr. 
Murdock about going home he advised against it. 
I told him I didn’t have money enough to stay 
longer, and he advised me to ask for a certificate 
from my home county for a few months. I hated 
to do it, but after listening to his reasons, decided . 
I would. If I went back to work now, and couldn’t 
stand the steady strain, I wouldn’t have money of 
my own like I did this time, and it would cost more 
in the long run than to stay a few months longer. 
He gave me permission to go to the city for a week 
or ten days, and I am going tomorrow. I think 
either Mr. Barr or Dr. Eutledge can arrange the 
certificate business with the authorities. As soon 
as that is otf my mind I’m going to get some new 
clothes, and get my teeth fixed up. When I came 
here I weighed an even hundred, and now I’m one 
hundred and twenty. I have had to let out all my 
clothes, but now they won’t be let out any more, 
and are worn and shabby, anyway. 

I am quite excited about the trip. It will be so 
much fun to see the folks in the office, get some 
pretty clothes, and see something besides trees and 
snow. Phyllis wants me to stay with her, but I 
guess she is not doing well at all, and her mother 
probably has enough on her hands, so I’ll stay with 
Mrs. Sullivan. 


149 


Saints’ Best 


Writing about that little hemorrhage I had 
makes me think of some fun Owen told me the boys 
had with a neW patient that was sent down to Par- 
adise Alley. There were two empty beds and he 
had his choice. After he had his bed made, his 
bedside table fixed up and gone for his wall^, one 
of the fellows hunted around until he found a 
dozen cockroaches, and put some of them on the 
bed, some on the bedsprings, some on the table, 
and when the man came back he noticed the crea- 
tures, and the boys told him they were hemorrhage 
bugs, and said that all the previous occupants of 
that particular bed or that particular corner had 
been hemorrhage cases, and he ought to be extra 
careful to keep from getting infected with hemor- 
rhage bugs. The man was sort of a simpleton, and 
was so scared that he rushed right up to Dr. Mur- 
dock and asked for another bed in another place. 
The doctor convinced him that they were playing 
a joke on him, but just for fun he made the fellow 
who caught the bugs change places with the simple- 
ton. Mercy, these poor superintendents! What 
don T they have to do ! 

I expect this will be the last letter I’ll write until 
I get back from my jaunt. 0, how I wish you were 
to be there too. 

Kose. 


150 


A Visit to the City 


Tamarack, March 12, 1914. 

Dear Darwin: 

Back to the san again ! I was crazy to get away, 
but crazier still to get back. Not but what I had 
a grand time. I didn’t lose any weight, and I only 
ran temperature once that I know of, and every- 
body thought I looked perfectly well, and that it 
was absurd for me to come back; all but Dr. Rut- 
ledge. He thought I was looking well, very well, 
but said I should go back and stay until Dr. Mur- 
dock told me to leave. Said it took a long time for 
one’s lungs to heal permanently and it was easier 
to make mistakes than to undo them, and now that 
I was better satisfied with things, and wasn’t nerv- 
ous and upset all the time, I’d probably keep right 
on improving if I gave myself a chance. He talked 
just like Dr. Murdock did about permanent results 
in place of temporary ones, etc. After the first 
few days I could see for myself that I wasn’t ready 
to keep up with well people. I tried to rest as 
much as I did at the san, but goodness me, the girls 
in the office came to see me, I was invited out to 
dinner twice, and Mrs. Sullivan insisted on having 
a party for me (grand eats). Was there ever a 
time when I loathed the sight of her table? I had 
my teeth fixed up, twelve good dollars it cost me, 
did considerable shopping, went to two or three 
good theaters, and was giddier than I had ever 


151 


Saints^ Rest 


been. It was such fun to have time for a good time 
and to feel well. I don ’t believe I ever felt so well 
before, but still I know I couldn’t keep it up. 

I could have gone right back to work in the office, 
and really it was a temptation, for even though I 
got my certificate all right I’m so short of money 
I’ll have to economize to get by another four 
months, or so, in idleness, but still one can get 
along on just a little. Poverty and I have been 
companions for so many years I’d hardly know 
how to get along without her, and after all, I guess 
I haven’t known real poverty since I began earn- 
ing my own living, even though I did economize so 
closely, and really aside from paying my own ex- 
penses so far, I have spent more money on things 
not actually necessary than ever before in this 
length of time, and I’ve had value received, too. 
Well, if I don’t have money enough to pay my fare 
when I’m ready to leave I’ll get a job as waitress 
or laundress. They’re always short of help, or 
maybe the doctor ’s secretary will leave. 0, there ’ll 
be a way all right if I keep on getting well, as I 
am sure I will, if I stay here where everyone has 
to rest a certain amount, day in and day out. I 
don’t believe a half-well person can take the cure 
at home, even if he has a home and means ever so 
Avell. It would be easier to do if one were so weak 
he just had to stay in bed, but when you are able 

152 


A Visit to the City 


to be up and around, people think you are silly to 
stay in bed, or lazy, and they won’t believe you are 
sick so long as you look well and feel well, and it 
is human nature to want to keep up with the crowd. 
Of course I suppose it could be done but even if I 
had a home, I think I’d rather take the cure here 
until I could lead a pretty normal life, and it does 
seem good to get back where it is quiet. The 
crowded cars and the hurly-burly of the city were 
awful. 

I spent one afternoon with Phyllis, and came 
away heartsick. She is not at all well. She is an 
only child, and her folks are devoting themselves 
to taking care of her. Dr. Rutledge said her situa- 
tion was as good as could be had at home. They 
moved out near one of the pretty lakes where the 
houses have lawns, and the street cars don’t run 
every five minutes. Phyllis has a big sunny room, 
with double doors leading onto a veranda and when 
the weather is nice, her mother pushes her bed out 
there. When she is in the room the windows are 
kept open most of the time, and there is a screen 
to shut off drafts. Mrs. Channing cleans the room 
every day, not a particle of dust to be seen, and 
changes the bedding every day. Phyllis is having 
night sweats, but everything smells so fresh and 
sweet you’d never dream that there was a sick per- 
son in the room. She looks about the same, a little 


153 


Saints^ Best 


thinner, maybe, but her eyes still shine, and she 
says she’s going to chase the bngs until they get 
as sick of her as she is of them. She was so jolly, 
so sweet and patient that I marveled. Only, once 
did she give me a hint that she suspected how 
things really were, and the next minute she was all 
smiles and sunshine, and her cheery auf wieder- 
sehen sent me scurrying from the room. On my 
way back to Mrs. Sullivan’s I stopped at a florist’s 
and blew in three dollars for a bunch of the loveli- 
est roses I could find. 

I came back to the san yesterday, and almost all 
my spare time has been spent writing this letter. 

Good night, dear heart. 

Rose. 


154 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE BIG CHIEF 

Tamarack, May 1, 1914. 

Hear Harwin : 

Time flies by so fast I hardly know where it goes. 
You’d hardly believe the hours are so full I have 
to snatch time to write. 

Everything is lovely. I weigh more than I ever 
did, one hundred twenty-five pounds, my cheeks 
are pink as pink roses, my pulse and temperature 
have behaved themselves for a long time, my blood 
tested 90 per cent hemoglobin, there are only a few 
dry rales in one corner of my left lung, and I’m 
as contented as the fat robin that struts up and 
down our greensward. 

Among the changes that the new doctor has rung 
in is one that allows both men and women the use 
of the recreation room and croquet grounds (the 
latter an innovation here), and the library every 
evening until eight o’clock, and the evening rest 
hour is abolished. Games, cards, music, or just 
conversation are allowable. He let me have what 
he considers some excellent books for general 
study, and with Murray’s help I am really study- 


155 


Saints^ Rest 


ing. Of course I ’m not wasting time on things that 
would be of little use to me, but I’m getting an 
inkling of what tuberculosis means, what it does, 
how to prevent it, and what to do and why to do 
it, when it hasn’t been prevented. It’s a bigger 
subject than I thought, and I don’t suppose what 
I get will be more than an alphabetical acquaint- 
ance with it, but even that is worth while. You 
say there is an antituberculosis league in Seattle. 
I’m so glad, for I will want to be in touch with 
some such organization. I had no idea that tuber- 
culosis was as prevalent as it is, or Avhat mistakes 
people make, even intelligent people like myself. 
Ha ! So I know wherever I am there will be some 
one who can be helped by what I am learning. You 
can look after the souls of your parishioners and 
I’ll look after their lungs. 

When I went up for the mail for our cottage it 
was late, and Owen and I passed the time of day 
as usual, while waiting. He told me how a couple 
of boys who hate to bother about taking their tem- 
perature and pulse the first thing in the morning 
were in the habit of making up a report at night 
and leaving it on the table for the night nurse when 
she makes morning rounds at 6 :30. You see every 
one has to take pulse and temperature before he 
gets up and then record it on a sheet of paper 
which is left on a table in the dressing room. The 


156 


The Big Chief 


last thing the night nurse does is to go to the dif- 
ferent cottages and collect these slips. One night 
about midnight she happened to look at this slip 
and found the morning pulse and temperature of 
these two men already written down. The men 
were called on the ‘‘carpet^’ next morning, but 
they wonT tell what the doctor said to them. If 
the boys are like the girls, a lot of them fake their 
temperature all the time. If it runs pretty evenly 
for a few days they will just make up a record 
without taking it, especially in the morning. On 
the other hand, some few are always taking it and 
worrying about every little variation. I don’t 
know which is the worse. 

Eose. 

Tamarack, May 5, 1917. 

Dear Darwin: 

Two events have occurred since I penned (I 
meant typed) the foregoing. Nothing very excit- 
ing but simple pastimes appeal to us, and we do 
have the best times. It happened that one girl from 
Saints’ Rest and one from Wildwood were going 
home on the same day, and we asked the doctor 
if we might have a picnic supper, just the two 
cottages. He gave permission, and let us use our 
afternoon exercise to get things ready. We chose 
a place a little way down that steep hill I men- 


157 


Saints’ Rest 


tioned once before. There is a nice, level grassy 
ledge there, just big enough for a small picnic, and 
you can look down the steep hill out over the lake 
with its little islands, and inlets, and all around 
are pines and birches, bright green and glistening 
white, and the cleanest, most refreshing odor. Here 
with some stones and a piece of sheet iron begged 
from the engineers we made our stove, and boiled 
the coffee, allowed as a treat for those who con- 
sider it such. Not me, I hate it. Our refreshments 
were very simple, but how good they tasted, under 
the open sky, away from the crowded dining room 
with its noise and clatter. 

The great feature of the afternoon, however, 
was the dressing up. Did I ever mention the fact 
that each of us has a bright red blanket which is 
used as a cover when we wish to lie on the beds 
after they are made up ? These blankets we draped 
around us, in supposedly Indian style, and from 
bits of velvet and ribbon with sumac leaves for 
feathers we concocted headdresses and in this gay 
attire we assembled for our Indian picnic. Some 
of the girls looked pretty much like Indians, though 
I don T know that that is any compliment. 

We were jolly and gay, as people often are be- 
fore a parting, but at the last a little silence fell. 
Even though there is often some one going and a 
new one coming, we get close to each other in our 


158 


The Big Chief 


common fight, and we couldn’t help but wonder how 
many of us would really heat the game, and how 
many would fail, either from lack of that intangible 
quality, resistance, or from failure to begin the 
treatment early enough, or from inability to do 
the right things after finding out what to do. We 
were feeling terribly solenm, and all at once down 
walked Dr. Murdock. Some one asked him a ques- 
tion, and in answering it he gave us a splendid 
little talk, so cheerful and encouraging that our 
blue devils retreated. We cheered him wildly when 
he got through and dubbed him ‘‘The Big Chief.” 
I’ll bet the title sticks. 

Event No. 2 was a marshmallow roast for every- 
body who was able to be out. The boys built a 
big fire before supper and threw on some six-foot 
timber and by seven o ’clock there was an immense 
bed of coals over which we toasted the mallows. 
When this was over, we threw more fuel on the 
coals and sat around the blazing pile, telling stories 
and singing until 8 :30. 

It is easier to have good times in warm weather 
than in the winter, for just gathering outdoors is 
pleasant, and simple things like the marshmallow 
roast don’t take the time and strength in prepara- 
tion that programs and indoor entertainments do. 
However, I’d not give up my memory of the fun 


159 


Saints^ Rest 


we had last Halloween for a good deal, though I 
know we all worked too hard. 

I smell the supper cooking and I do believe it’s 
stew. It’s a good thing I like it, for we get lots of 
it, Irish stew, mutton stew, and hash, only they 
are always called by some fancy name. As one 
of the men remarked, ‘‘They have so many funny 
names for hash.” It sort of vexes some of the 
girls to hear me applaud our stew and hash meals. 
I believe they think I’m plebeian in my tastes. 

I must close now. 

For the supper bell is ringing. 

An’ it’s there that I would be. 

By the old lamb, stewed and garnished. 
Lookin’ fine to hungry me. 

Kose. 


160 


CHAPTER XIX 


LITTLE COMRADE TAKES THE LONG 
JOURNEY 

Tamarack, June 20, 1914. 

Dear Darwin: 

0, these glorious days of sunshine and pleasant 
breezes, days filled with good cheer and warm 
friendships, and ever-increasing strength and vi- 
tality. 

I know it is usually considered a fact that tuber- 
culous people improve more in cold weather than 
in warm, and I suppose it is true in general, but 
I feel 75 per cent better these warm June days 
than I did in the winter. Give me the balmy days 
of spring and the glorious sunshine of summer 
every time. Perhaps, though, it took the bracing 
days of winter to get me in shape. To be honest, 
I can recall spring and summer days when just to 
be alive was misery, and when my work was done 
just because it had to be done. 

I know IVe written pages and pages about the 
wonderful verdure, the wintergreen that creeps all 
over these sandy woods, the anemones and hepat- 
icas, the cowslips by the lake, the blooms of the 


161 


Saints^ Rest 


wild strawberry and wild raspberry with their 
promise of fruit, and the myriad of plants and 
flowers that I know only by sight. Can you stand 
just a little more raving? I found an enchanted 
spot yesterday, and like the robin singing in yon- 
der birch I must tell my tale or burst. Of all the 
wild flowers IVe ever seen the lady slippers have 
always appealed most to my fancy, and I have 
roamed these woods hour after hour in search of 
them. I found a few growing rather close to the 
sanatorium in a wild uncleared space, but I was 
not satisfied, for I had read of places where they 
grew in profusion, and I wanted to see such a dis- 
play for myself. I have so much exercise time that 
I can walk a long ways, and yesterday I started 
down the track, and after walking a mile or two 
I branched otf onto an old logging road that skirted 
a cedar swamp. Since I didn’t quite like the looks 
of the swamp I wandered at times into the woods 
on the other side of the road. Plenty of flowers 
I found, except what I sought. The Indian paint- 
brush flaunted itself unchecked, and the star flowers 
spread their snowy petals underfoot among the 
ferns. A little tired after an hour or so, I started 
to retrace my steps along the road. Several times 
I would glance longingly at the opposite side, but 
it looked too boggy for safe walking. Soon, how- 
ever, so loath was I to give up my quest, that I 


162 


Little Comrade Tahes the Long Journey 


walked a few paces into the swamp and stood 
peering into its dim recesses. A gleam of gold 
caught my eyes, and I ventured a little farther. 
The spongy looking ground yielded a little, but 
there was solid ground underneath, though here 
and there a little pool of water warned me to 
heed my footsteps. Four or five dainty yellow 
lady slippers swayed in the breezes and tempted 
me still farther onward, and suddenly I found my- 
self in a palace of delight. Huge cedars towered 
above me, with glimpses of blue sky between; col- 
umbines reared their slender stems and shook 
their radiant heads at every touch; the spongy 
earth was covered with grasses, among which 
crowded the star flowers’ waxen petals and dark 
green leaves, and among all these the lady slippers 
swayed in dainty loveliness. Most of them were of 
the small variety, some the size of a thumb and 
some even smaller. Dozens and dozens of them, 
and one glance at their dainty perfection brought 
to mind the old assurance that fairies and elves 
found them fit footwear for their merry dances 
on starry nights. I wandered here and there, and 
loath indeed was I to leave that enchanted spot, 
when the lengthening shadows gave evidence of 
the passing of time. I reached my cottage home, 
tired and dusty, but my eyes were filled with a 
vision of loveliness and my soul was filled with 
rapture. 


163 


Saints^ Rest 


This morning, too, I found something unusual, 
not beautiful, but interesting. Midway between 
the cedar swamp and the san I stumbled upon a 
deserted Indian camp. It was in a secluded spot, 
well sheltered from the wind that sweeps up from 
the lake in winter. The framework of three tepees 
was left, and I took a snap shot of them. Beside 
a log nearby were fully a bushel of rabbits’ legs, 
and the fine hair of a deer was scattered over the 
ground. Even my curiosity could not persuade 
me to linger long, the odor of the place proving a 
bar to enjoyment. 

I’ve traversed all the nearby spots, and now I’m 
longing to spend a whole day tramping far afield, 
but I suppose it would not be advisable, even if I 
could. Tomorrow I am to start spending my morn- 
ing exercise time working in the doctor’s office. 
They are short of help. I am glad, for I know 
so little of this kind of work, and want all the ex- 
perience I can get. Besides, if I can’t go back 
to the city to work as I did before, pretty soon, 
I’d like to work up here a while. I suppose I 
ought to talk to the doctor about going home, but 
I hate to. I’d really feel dreadfully if I had not im- 
proved as much as I think I have, and besides, I’m 
hoping he will tell me without my asking. I know 
he must get tired of having people continually 
asking to go home, as so many of them do, who 


164 


Little Comrade Tahes the Long Journey 

think they have recovered fully as soon as they 
gain a little weight and begin to feel well. 

If I don’t get a letter from you in the next two 
days, I shall not write you for a month. I don’t 
expect -a letter every day, but it has been over a 
week since I heard, and I’m just as interested in 
your doings as you are in mine. So there, Darwin 

Burney ! ^ , 

Lovingly, 

Eose. 

Tamarack, July 5, 1914. 

My dear : 

Another holiday spent in the sanatorium. Little 
did I think when I spent my first holiday here that 
the Fourth of July would find me still a sojourner. 

The Big Chief made a little speech before the 
Fourth. He said he wanted us to have a good 
time, with no bad results, and after considerable 
talk, a simple program was outlined. A big launch, 
a double decker, was chartered for the morning of 
the Fourth, and at nine o ’clock all those whom the 
doctor considered able, gathered at the nearest 
landing, and a merry bunch we were. A smart 
breeze was blowing, so much so that Murray Dun- 
ning and I, who sat up on the front end of the 
boat, and hung our feet over, had much ado to 
avoid getting wet from the spray that leaped up 

165 


Saints^ Rest 


to meet us. IVe not been able to find out for sure 
how big this lake is, but it seems to me I heard 
some one say that it had 640 miles of shore line. It 
is far larger than I thought. Once out on the main 
body of water we could scarcely see land, and I 
could almost imagine I was really at sea. For 
two hours and more we sailed and sang of Captain 
Kidd and his pirate crew, and ‘‘A Sailor’s Wife 
the Sailor’s Star Should Be.” Gloomy? Why 
should we be? The only difference between us 
and the rest of the world is that we know we have 
tuberculosis, and are going to take care of our- 
selves, and live to a ripe old age, and some people 
have tuberculosis and don’t know it, and don’t 
take care of themselves, and will be cut off in their 
prime. 

At 11 :30 we were back at our landing place, and 
on reaching the dining room were served with 
sandwiches and milk, and then after a rest in bed 
we assembled for the big picnic dinner at 2 :30. A 
spot had been selected in an open glade, near the 
lake, and supplies carried to it by wagon. A plat- 
form had been built by the carpenter and some 
of the employes and was gaily decorated. Said 
platform was to be the site of a dance that evening 
for employes and their guests. We had a program, 
very short, and then a perfectly delicious picnic 
dinner. Miss Harper and the culinary department 


166 


Little Comrade Takes the Long Journey 


certainly did themselves proud. Employes don’t 
hate to do things for us like they did, when they 
can take part in the fun, too. It was their picnic 
as well as ours, though of course a number of them 
had elected to spend their holiday elsewhere. Any 
number of reclining chairs, a few hammocks, and 
blankets were on hand and we lounged at our 
pleasure, reading, talking, and watching the amus- 
ing contests indulged in mostly by the employes. 
There were only a few contests by the patients, 
since most of us are barred from unnecessary ex- 
ertion. 

You should have seen the hairdressing contest. 
Three girls with very heavy hair, and three hap- 
less young men, volunteered to be victims. The 
girls were seated in a row on the platform, a young 
man behind each one. At a signal each man pro- 
ceeded to pull out hairpins, take down the tresses 
and rearrange them any style he fancied, braids 
barred. A bottle of approved hair tonic went to 
the developer of the most artistic coiffure, who 
accomplished the result in the least time, and a 
tiny celluloid comb to the man whose etforts were 
most resultant of ridicule. Agonies of the ladies 
during the above process were not taken into con- 
sideration. A counterattraction was insisted upon, 
in which three young men allowed themselves to 
be shaved by the ladies. For true heroism they 


167 


Saints^ Rest 


all deserved a medal. Surely it must have been no 
minor matter to sit calmly while a razor wandered 
over one’s face. Eesults and speed were also the 
requirements in this contest, and the first prize 
went to Mrs. Doctor, who afterward confessed that 
she had shaved the doctor’s neck an average of 
once a month for a good many years, and thus had 
acquired experience. 

At five-thirty refreshments for those who wished 
them were again in order, and six-thirty found 
us all in our cottages ready to rest until eight 
o’clock, when we assembled on the lawn to view 
the wonderful display of fireworks. Nine o’clock 
found us in bed, just pleasantly tired, and con- 
scious of the serene feeling which a happy day 
engenders. Just before we dispersed, some one 
suggested three cheers for the Big Chief, and the 
response was quick and fervid. I’ve been won- 
dering, as I have before, at the hold the doctor 
already has on the people. Even the doubters from 
whose lips the old adage about a new broom 
sweeping clean, fell freely during the first weeks 
of the doctor’s novitiate, have waxed enthusiastic, 
and barring the few unpleasantnesses that some- 
times occur in the best regulated families, we have 
had an almost unbelievable state of harmony. 

How does he do it? Not gifted with what we 
call accomplishments, he has inherent the gift of 

168 


Little Comrade Takes the Long Journey 

friendliness. This must he the secret of his suc- 
cess, for friendliness embraces sympathy and pa- 
tience, and these three things, conpled, of conrse, 
with his technical knowledge, mark the difference 
between a ‘‘Eoyal Highness’’ and a ‘^Big Chief.” 

Good night, 
Eose. 

Tamarack, Angnst 20, 1914. 

Dear Darwin : 

Fnlly an hour have I been sitting on the needle- 
strewn ground, leaning against a steady old pine, 
and wondering. 

I brought my pencil and pad with me, for I can’t 
bear the jangle of the typewriter today. 

What a deceiver Old Time is! One moment it 
seems only a few days ago instead of almost a year 
since Phyllis and I came on our quest for health 
and roamed these fragrant woods and sat beneath 
this very pine. The next moment it seems years 
and years ago. Yesterday the message came, not 
from her but about her. I’ve been expecting it, 
but I can scarcely believe her joyous spirit has 
departed. I’ve wandered over the old haunts 
where we took our exercise, first when the flaming 
leaves had begun to fall, and later when the snow 
lay thick over the paths and through the woods, 
and everywhere I wander memory paints me the 


169 


Saints^ Rest 


lissome figure of my little comrade, with tasseled 
cap and sunny curls. My eyes fill with sudden 
tears, for her steps have wandered into an un- 
loiown path, but before the tears have time to fall 
I hear the echo of her merry laughter, I see her 
saucy smile, I feel again the dauntless courage that 
never wavered, and I grasp the calm assurance of 
a faith that acknowledged no stars save those of 
hope. 

Brave and cheery to the last, they wrote me. 
Courage! Have I ever known it? Appreciation! 
Have I ever known it? My thoughts turn to the 
wonder of these northern woods with their rugged 
beauty, touched by a thousand gentle hands, the 
bluebells straying over the rocky grounds, the col- 
umbines waving in airy grace, the sweep of the 
wind through the pines, carrying with it messages 
from the wild things of the woods. There are 
these things for those who have ears to hear and 
eyes to see, and those whose spirits can receive 
such, have gained much, even though their passing 
sojourn fails to bring healing to the body. 

Yours always. 
Rose. 


170 


CHAPTER XX 


THE YEAR’S REWARD 

Tamarack, August 25, 1914. 

Dear Darwin: 

It was seven o’clock when I sat down to write. 
It is almost eight now. Thoughts come slowly. 
Your letter, which reached me a few days ago, has 
been constantly in my mind. Your hopes and plans 
are alluring and wonderful. I’m happy, but there 
can be no comparison between this and entering 
upon my life with you this fall, as you are plan- 
ning. There should be no question of the feasi- 
bility of these plans, but there is. I’ve lain awake 
thinking; I’ve called on my most constant friend, 
the Man in the Moon, but this time he merely 
smiled his persistent smile (the old fraud). Then 
because I was fearful lest we make a mistake I 
took your letter and my courage and went to the 
doctor for counsel. We talked a long time. He 
is always willing to discuss anything from all view- 
points and doesn’t merely give advice. 

He said that if I married you this fall I might 
retain my health, and the ultimate results be satis- 
factory, but that this was far less certain than the 


171 


Saints^ Rest 


opposite. He told me my lungs were in excellent 
condition; that eight doctors out of ten among 
ordinary practitioners would he loath to believe I 
had ever been tuberculous from the physical signs, 
but that lungs do not heal permanently for a long 
time, and that marriage with its adjustment to 
a new environment, and the probability of child- 
birth, might be factors which would soon undo all 
the improvement I have made, and since I could 
be reasonably happy and comfortable as things 
are, he asked me if I didn’t think the wisest and 
best thing to do was not to take a chance. I asked 
him if he would talk the same six months or a year 
from now, and he said that at the end of six 
months of work if I was as well in every way as I 
appear to be now, he would not discourage our 
getting married. 

I’m not a coward, dear, but I want only the best 
for us both. I don’t want to become an invalid, 
peevish, exacting and expensive, and I don’t want 
you to become a mere provider, worried and tired. 
1 want you to grow into a nice, happy, white-haired 
old man, and I want to be a nice white-haired old 
lady, and in place of a few doubtful years I want 
to give you years and years of myself at my best, 
and I want to share with you a family of husky, 
happy youngsters who will have reason to think 
our fireside the loveliest spot on earth until they 


172 


The Yearns Reward 


have one of their own. If I didn’t want so mnch 
from onr lives I wouldn’t hesitate, but I can’t 
bear to risk the loss of anything when a few months 
more would make it so much more certain. If this 
illness had never reached me, I could put my hand 
in yours and go down the lane with never a thought 
for the future, and yet, I’m glad things have been 
as they are, for I know better now how much there 
is to expect from life. I’ve found loveliness where 
I would never have looked for it, in little nooks 
and crannies of people’s hearts and minds, and 
I’ve caught glimpses of the hard and bitter side 
of life. I’ve seen so much to be afraid of, and so 
much to want, that I don’t dare risk a false move. 

It’s hard, my dear. I’m sorry to draw any 
heavier on your stock of fine courage. If you were 
less a man I should be afraid to test you so, but 
you must come for a visit, anyway. I couldn’t 
quite stand another six months with only mem- 
ories of your blue eyes and joyous smile. You 
need a vacation, and there is a little lodging house 
nearby where you can stay, and in my leisure 
time you and I can roam around the wonder spots 
of this region and get acquainted again, and when 
I am busy you can rest or roam as you like. 

The doctor offered me a place as secretary in 
his office. There is a good salary, and the sur- 
roundings are good, and I believe I can better 

173 


Saints^ Rest 


preserve my health here than in the city in my old 
place. I told him I wonld write yon before de- 
ciding anything. Write me at once, dear. I feel 
I’ll he doing the best thing to take the doctor’s 
advice, but I want your approval, and I want to 
be sure I can look forward to a visit from you, 
very soon, even though I am not to go back with 
you as we had hoped. 

Lovingly, 

Rose. 

Tamarack, September 5, 1914. 

Dear Darwin : 

A year ago I came to Tamarack, a patient. To- 
day I have been discharged, apparently arrested, 
and entered upon the pay roll as secretary to the 
superintendent. 

I moved my belongings from Saints’ Rest to 
the quarters of the official staff. My duties begin 
tomorrow. I’m not nervous, for I’ve helped so 
much in the office lately that the routine work is 
becoming familiar, and I’m too anxious to begin 
the real work to be afraid of it. Also I’m anxious 
to begin earning a salary. Bless Margaret Dale, 
for preferring to work in the city, and leaving this 
opening to me. While a bank account, or what 
I used to call my ‘‘pride-saver,” is no longer my 
chief ambition, yet I don’t intend to be an entirely 

174 


The Yearns Reward 


dowerless bride, and I can save more here than in 
the city, for the salary is as good as I had there, 
considering the maintenance, and medical super- 
vision, and I won’t wear myself out riding on 
stuify street cars. My leisure time will be a help, 
not a hindrance. My accommodations are fine. A 
large, sunny room, with two small rugs, comfort- 
able furniture, including a little desk with a read- 
ing lamp, and best of all, the room has double 
doors that swing out on a big porch, where Dr. 
Hull, Miss Lyons, Miss Harper and myself have 
beds, and the porch is so large that there is room 
for a library table and a few little rockers. It 
makes a sort of sun parlor, and I shall make good 
use of it before the wintry blasts begin to howl. 

Besides all this, there is a commodious closet, 
well equipped with hooks, and a broad shelf, and 
the dresser has two big drawers and two small 
ones, and there is my desk besides. What richness 
for one who has had to cram her belongings into 
the confines of one small locker, and whose trunk 
was only accessible three days in the week. Now 
I have no wrathy feelings over the trunk room. 
There is nothing in my trunk but the remnants of 
my last winter’s wardrobe. 

This whole week has been a week of changes. 
Murray left for his home to spend a few weeks 
with his sister, before beginning his last term. 


175 


Saints^ Rest 


He has only five months more. Then he expects 
to return here, as third assistant, and make a 
specialty of tuberculosis. Dr. Murdock is quite 
pleased. He doesn’t think Murray could stand the 
stress of a general practice just yet, and the train- 
ing he will get here will be of benefit to him always, 
even if he takes general practice later. Also he 
thinks him a good man for the place, not only in- 
dustrious but willing and anxious to learn, and he 
hopes to make a first-class sanatorium man out of 
him. 

Owen Bowling has begun work as assistant clerk 
in the steward’s office. After a three years’ fight 
he is able to do a reasonable amount of light work 
where conditions are suitable. A three years’ 
fight sounds formidable, but Dr. Hull says he was 
a far advanced and unfavorable case when he came, 
and in addition to the lung involvement had a tu- 
berculous hip and knee. Of course he is still lame 
and probably always will be, but he has improved 
wonderfully. A person should have some results 
for so long a struggle, and I am glad he has, but 
it doesn’t always happen that way. 

Loraine Belmond, whose condition was as bad, 
when she entered, almost as long ago as Owen, 
doesn’t seem to get anywhere, as the doctors say. 
She has picked up at times, and has improved 
from some terrible relapses, but the gain is never 

176 


The Year’s Reward 


permanent. She is a talented person, in her line 
of work. She can do the most beautiful sewing I 
ever saw, some of the garments made before she 
came were evidently fit for a queen, and she has 
designed and made wonderful creations for the 
elite of her home town, among whom she was 
friend as well as modiste. The family has seen 
better days, I imagine. She is not well enough 
to earn her own living, and her relatives either 
wonT or can’t give her a home, and while she is 
always thinking that another six months will find 
her able to work, she is terribly unhappy, especially 
since she was moved from the cottage because the 
walk to her meals seemed too hard on her. I am 
sorry she is not doing better, for she is a dear girl, 
and the more I know her the better I like her. 

And little Jimmie, our star beauty, left the san 
a few days ago, and letters this morning announce 
her marriage. Is such courage commendable or 
regrettable, I wonder. 

Miss Middlestone expects to teach school this 
winter, and leaves tomorrow, and Mrs. Ferber left 
some days ago, in pretty good condition. 

Only a few of those present when I came are 
here, and although the new ones slip easily into 
place, I think Saints’ Rest will always be a back- 
ground for the faces I knew first, and my early 


177 


Saints^ Rest 


sanatorium friendships will be an enduring part 
of my future life. 

This wonderful, wonderful year! IVe learned 
much since I came up here, not just about tuber- 
culosis, but about life. I’d never have learned all 
this in the city, at least not in the narrow groove 
in which I was walking. Up here I’ve come in con- 
tact with such a variety of dispositions, such a 
diversity of training and opportunity, that I can’t 
begin to discriminate between cause and effect, and 
I’ve learned much, too, from the cool paths, the 
constant green of the pines, the messages borne 
on the swish of the winds, and the tales told by 
the Man in the Moon. 0, I’m crude yet, but I’m 
learning, and little by little I’m blending the as- 
surance that comes from a book education with 
the assurance that comes from a living education. 
Darwin, if you loved me two years ago, you’ll 
surely love me now, for I am much more worth 
loving. Indeed, as I look back, I wonder what you 
saw in the girl of two years ago. 

The five o’clock train has whistled in. When 
that whistle blows a week from today I’ll not be 
sitting here, calmly writing. What, then? Shall 
I tell you? That week it will be the patient men’s 
turn to walk the station road, and there is always 
a motley crowd at the station. Someway I have 
a fancy not to meet you under their curious eyes. 


178 


The Year’s Reivard 


so when you alight from the train throw your lug- 
gage into the omnibus and follow on foot the wind- 
ing, sandy road. The goldenrod will blaze along 
the way, and the wild sunflowers lift their shining 
heads to welcome you, and where the road bends 
to the left, Ifll be waiting, the glow of health on 
my cheeks, and in my heart the glow of boundless 
love. 

Eose. 


179 



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